Sentinel of Past and Future
by Apollo Racer
Summary: The sequel to Origins. After years of isolation, Apollo Racer returns to the Federation. To help Starfleet in their fight against the Dominion, he gains command of one of their most advanced starships. Along the way, he makes discoveries that will poss
1. Default Chapter

Sentinel of Past and Future: Prologue and Chapter One

_SENTINEL OF PAST AND FUTURE_

_"Captain Racer... to Starbase 13." His voice was flat and low, completely lacking in emotion. Throughout the study of the ship, he would be struck with another moment of rage, and he would scream again; as a result, he was also hoarse. "Effective immediately, until further notice, I am placing myself on inactive service, and I am taking a leave of absence for an indefinite period of time. _

"My reasons for this are the logs from the Valiant_, which were ejected automatically prior to her destruction, as per Starfleet regulations; the logs from the vessel of which I have currently commandeered and claim as per right of salvage; and finally, personal reasons which I am unable to give at this time. _

"Unfortunately, these logs will be sealed in Federation archives, per my final orders. Only the president of the Federation and myself will have access and authorization to read these reports, and they will remain sealed until, and unless, I find it appropriate to return." 

He paused for a good minute, constructing what he had to say next. "I regret that in my current frame of mind, I am unable to continue my duties. It has been an honor and a privilege to serve in such a grand organization, and it is my hope that, in the event of my return, I am able to continue serving. 

"I wish condolences to be sent to friends and next of kin of each and every crew member aboard the _Valiant_ who died without a purpose. It is among my final orders, and my sincerest request, that these condolences be carried out in the truest form of my command. To my remaining friends, goodbye. You will not likely see me again in your lifetime." 

Apollo sat back in his chair, at the helm of the alien ship. He was staring at the viewscreen, which showed a scene of empty space where just moments before, a majestic starship hung amongst the stars. Never before had he felt such anguish, grief, and rage, all boiled into one thick congealing mass at the pit of his stomach. Despair and depression were overwhelming in him, yet he was able to bring down his mask of Vulcan calm. He lifted his hand in the salute of the people he admired so much. "Goodbye," he said quietly, tears rolling down his face. "You will be dearly missed." 

With a deep breath, he operated the controls before him. The ship turned gracefully on an axis and cloaked as it simultaneously shot into warp speed. 

It is now eighty years later. 

CHAPTER ONE 

It was a dark and stormy night in an equally dark and dreary town on the surface of an unnamed planet orbiting a nondescript star out on the edge of Federation territory. There was no name registered - at least, no official name, though there were plenty of nicknames it went by, none of them good - because nothing legal ever took place on this planet, and the less the Federation knew about it, the better. 

Rain hammered down on the roof of a small tavern in the town, bringing no end to the bleak, grungy mood of the place. The air in the place was so thick with negative emotion that no one noticed the woman come in out of the rain, preceded by a hobbling man in a thick, black robe and hood. They both sidled up to the bar. The woman ordered something completely unintelligible to the bartender, though it perked the hooded man's interest for a second. Disappointed that the barkeep couldn't get her drink, she changed her order and gave a look to the hooded man that told him in no uncertain terms that she'd like to be left alone. The stranger turned back to his drink, one that the bartender seemed to know to put there for him. They stayed that way for about an hour... after such time had passed, the woman was halfway through her third glass. The stranger had taken hardly more than a couple of sips from his first. 

A Nausicaan on the other side of the tavern stood up from the table where he was sitting, and approached the bar. A Klingon stood with him and followed. The Nausicaan slowly walked over until he stood at the bar on the other side of the woman. The Klingon stood back far enough to hear and watch everything that took place. 

"Have you got what I came for?" she asked the Nausicaan without looking at him. The Nausicaan laughed menacingly, and she instantly knew she was in trouble. "We had a deal," she growled. 

The Nausicaan laughed again. "There will be no deal, Federation. _Star_-fleet." 

The word caused a few chairs to screech against the floor as their occupants registered surprise. "What are you talking about?" she said, "I'm not..." 

"_No... deal!_" The Nausicaan grabbed her by the front of her jacket. 

The Klingon stepped in. "One of our... contacts... recalled seeing you. Said the last time he remembered, you were wearing a Starfleet uniform." 

She tried to laugh it off. "He was probably trying to scare you out of the deal so he could get more profit. Tell me who the _p'tahk_ was, and I'll..." 

"You won't do anything, Starfleet," came a voice from near the back of the tavern. A human came through, pushing a bearded human ahead of him. Blood from his mouth, nose, and a gash over his eye had caked in his beard. "And you can stop worrying about your backup. He won't be of any help." 

"Will..." she whispered. She tried to go to him, but the Nausicaan still had her firmly by her jacket. He whipped her around and slammed her back against the bar. The human pushed Will next to her. She glared at him. "Bendis," she muttered. "How long have you known?" 

"Not long." He turned to his comrades. "I believe if you do a more thorough check on them, you'll find that their names are Commander William Riker and Commander Deanna Troi." He turned and faced the two of them. "I didn't think the Maquis were such a thorn in Starfleet's side that they had to send their finest to search us out." 

Despite the pain, Riker managed a smile. "If you know who we are, then you know that we wouldn't be here alone." 

The Maquis human was obviously not impressed. He gave a nod, and the Nausicaan backhanded Riker, knocking him into Troi, who in turn bumped the hooded stranger. The stranger had just decided to take a sip, so his hand was jostled, sending the contents of his drink all over his robe. "Hey," he quietly said, in a cracked and timid voice, "do you mind if I can drink in peace?" 

"Shut up, old man," Bendis said, "or you rest in peace." 

"Hey, look, what you guys do is none of my business. All I ask..." 

"I said shut up!" He grabbed the hooded man by the shoulders and threw him across the room. The man landed in a heap on the floor against a table. The people sitting at the table quickly relocated themselves. 

Bendis returned his attention to the two Starfleet officers. "I would love to have my friend here work on you two for a little while, get a little information from you. But you see, I no longer have the time. I have a ship to catch." He turned to his friends. "Take them in back and kill them. Start with the woman, and make him watch." He grinned ferally as the Nausicaan and the Klingon moved to take them. 

The hooded man said something, causing Maquis leader to whip around. "What did you say?" 

"I said, you need to respect your elders, sonny boy." 

The three Maquis looked at the old man with surprise. Riker and Troi were horrified that this stranger would sacrifice himself. Troi leaned in toward Riker, as much as could be allowed, and mumbled, "Please tell me Bendis was bluffing when he said no reinforcements will arrive." 

Riker shrugged and said, "Sorry. I did the best I could. The _Enterprise_ couldn't get this far in without being detected." 

Bendis, meanwhile, started slowly advancing on the stranger. "You know, you must really hate life." He gave a glance past the stranger. A Breen and a Gorn stood up. 

"Whether I hate life or not is none of your business, boy. But just to satisfy your curiosity, I happen to enjoy life. You wanna know why?" 

He emitted a harsh chuckle. "All right, old man. Why don't you enlighten me." 

"Well... life is so much fun because..." as the stranger spoke, his voice changed, taking on a steadier, firmer tone. "You never know what it'll throw at you." Two blue eyes opened, glowing out from the depths of the cowl. 

Bendis appeared startled, and Troi sensed it was for more than simply because the man surprised them. As he stepped back, his men behind the stranger moved forward. The stranger, in one smooth, fluid motion, reached back, grabbed the Breen and the Gorn with each arm, and flipped them forward over his head to slam into the human. The Klingon and the Nausicaan decided not to allow the newcomer any help, and moved to kill Riker and Troi right there at the bar. However, seeing their chance, the two officers struck. Riker brought his fists up, slamming into the Klingon's chin. Troi walloped the Nausicaan across the face, but he just grinned, and smashed his fist into Troi's face, knocking her over the bar. 

The Nausicaan felt a tap at his shoulder. "Don't you know it's not nice to hit a lady?" the stranger said. 

The Nausicaan, in turning to face him, shoved him back and hit him solidly in the face once, twice, thrice, each blow strong enough to whip the stranger's head around, and knock his hood back. He turned his icy blue gaze on the Nausicaan, and grinned evilly. "_My turn_," he said in a voice that could have come straight from Hell. 

Even though he knew it was coming, the Nausicaan's opponent was still too fast. The blow picked him up off his feet and sent him sailing across to the opposite wall. He hit with a force that shook the building, and slumped to the floor. 

The Breen and the Gorn, meanwhile, had gotten up. As Bendis backed away from the action his two comrades came toward the stranger. Riker stopped the Breen, however. "Where do you think you're going?" He gave the Breen a two-handed blow that spun him around. Riker grabbed the hoses connecting the Breen's helmet with the rest of his environmental suit and yanked hard. The hoses came off with a whoosh, causing cold air to escape. Riker then grabbed the Breen by the back of the helmet and brought its head down on the counter. The impact shattered the Breen's helmet and sent it into unconsciousness. The Klingon, meanwhile decided to renew his attack on Riker. He brought his fists hard into Riker's back sending him tumbling over the unconscious Breen. Riker slammed into a support beam, dazed. 

The Gorn by now had reached the stranger. "A Gorn," he said, "haven't seen one of you in a long time. I wonder if you're still slow." The Gorn, in response, brought his arm around in what on a quicker being would have been a roundhouse punch, had the stranger not easily ducked. "Yep, still as slow as ever." He punched the Gorn repeatedly in the face and chest, but the Gorn didn't give any reaction to it. "And just as dense." So he dropped to the ground and swept his legs out, taking the Gorn's legs out from under it. It the floor with a heavy thump. The stranger then transferred his whole weight into his elbow for a body slam to the Gorn's head. The Gorn stopped moving. 

When the stranger got back up, the Klingon was facing him. He pulled a bat'leth from a harness on his back and went through some deadly swings with it, grinning and laughing with anticipation. 

The stranger merely looked at him. "Drawing a weapon on me? That would be dishonorable, using a bat'leth on an unarmed man." He reached in and pulled out a cylinder roughly a foot and a half long and an inch and a half in diameter. "Fortunately, I am not unarmed." 

The Klingon laughed even harder. "What do you expect to do with that? Throw it at me? Try to beat me over the head with it?" 

"Not exactly," replied the stranger. He pressed a stud on the side, and a bright blue beam extended from the cylinder, about a meter long. 

The Klingon looked at the stranger in disbelief. "If you truly think that is a weapon, then I will bring your end swiftly." He gestured for the warrior to approach him. "Bring it on... it is a good day to die." The Klingon roared and charged, sweeping the bat'leth around in a murderous arc. The stranger brought the sword up as though to block the swing. The bat'leth appeared to go straight through the beam... However, sparks issued forth, and the beam cut the bat'leth in half like a hot knife through butter. The stranger continued his swing, bringing his sword across the Klingon's body. 

He stood up and looked at the Klingon. The warrior was looking at his halved bat'leth as though he had never seen such a thing before in his life, which he probably hadn't. He started to turn toward the stranger, until he realized his torso was no longer connected to his waist. It slid off his legs and hit the floor with a sickening splud. The last thing the Klingon saw, as the light left his eyes, was his legs, still standing for a moment, then falling backward to join him on the floor. 

The Bendis was shocked to see this. The stranger turned off his blade and replaced the cylinder at his belt. "How did you... how is it..." the human sputtered, but couldn't finish the sentence. Instead, he picked up one half of the bat'leth. 

The stranger held his hand out and shook his head. "You don't want to do this. Trust me." 

But the human was beyond reason. He charged, roaring. The stranger jumped up, spun around, and sent a roundhouse kick to the side of the Bendis' head. He went down like a sack of potatoes, and stayed there. 

The stranger surveyed the scene, then looked toward Riker. He brought Riker up into a standing position. "Are you going to be okay?" 

Riker looked at him, still dazed. "De... Deanna," he croaked. 

The stranger turned to the bar, and saw a hand feebly trying to find purchase. He put his hands on the bar and vaulted over so he could help Deanna to her feet. She was holding her face. "Are you all right?" The stranger said. 

"Ah... ah dink ba node id boken," she managed to reply. 

The stranger grinned. "You'll be okay." Looking under the bar, he spotted a canteen. Picking it up, he took it and Troi over to Riker. Proffering the canteen to the commander, he said, "Here, drink this." 

Riker did, and started to regain his wits. He finally got a good look at their ally. "You. I recognize you... from... from history. You're... you're..." 

The stranger smiled. "Apollo Racer. At your service. I assume this Bendis... what did he call himself... Maquis? Was right? You're from Starfleet?" Riker nodded. "Well, then I would guess you have a shuttlecraft somewhere around here." 

Riker nodded again. "Our runabout is about a couple of kilometers away." He looked at Racer again, then he looked at the bodies on the floor. "No wonder they didn't have a chance." Racer turned to lead them out the door, and Riker stopped. "Wait. We need Bendis. He's whole reason for us being here. We were trying to find information that would lead to him." He looked skeptically at his newfound ally. "What I'll find interesting is what _you're_ doing here. 

Apollo shrugged. "Just passing through...." He trailed off for a moment, as though deep in thought. Then he came back to the present. "Anyway, it looks like you found more than you bargained for. Take your friend, and I'll handle Sleeping Beauty." Racer reached down, picked up Bendis and slung him over his shoulder. Before he left, he tossed a few strips of latinum on the bar to cover the damages. "Let's go." On their way out, Apollo was heard asking Troi, "By the way, where ever did you get the idea of asking for tequila?" 


	2. Sentinel of Past and Future: Chapter 2

_CHAPTER TWO_

Captain Jean-Luc Picard was waiting for Riker as the runabout came to a halt in the _Enterprise's_ shuttle bay. A security detail came from behind the captain. They took the Maquis crewmember to the brig. Beverly Crusher, the Chief Medical Officer, was also there. Riker had informed the captain as they approached that Troi was injured, and as Riker helped Troi out of the runabout, Crusher could see she was needed. She ran her medical tricorder over both of them. "I want both of you in Sickbay now," she ordered, and began to follow them out of the shuttle bay. 

As they passed Picard, he turned to follow, but Riker stopped him. "We have one more passenger. Without him, we wouldn't have gotten out of there," he said. The way he smiled when he said it instantly got Picard's attention. He slowly headed toward the runabout. As Crusher was equally intrigued, she stayed by the exit, and was in no hurry to rush Riker and Troi along. 

Just as Picard reached the runabout, Apollo emerged from the craft. Picard's eyes instantly widened in recognition. "_Merde_," he said softly. It was all he could manage to say. 

Apollo smiled softly. "Greetings. I understand you're the captain of this ship." He extended his hand. "I'm..." 

"Apollo Racer. _The_ Apollo Racer." 

Apollo's smile broadened. "Uh, actually, I don't recall my title ever being _The_. I did go by Captain at one time or another. Come to think of it, I don't recall there ever being any other Apollo Racers, either." 

Crusher shooed Riker and Troi to Sickbay and walked over to Picard. "Jean-Luc, who is this?" 

Picard looked at Crusher incredulously. "This... this is Captain Apollo Racer. He was... is a legendary Starfleet officer. I read about him in my history course at the Academy." 

"Oh, please," Apollo said, a little disturbed, "don't tell me they've got a chapter about me in the texts. I don't even want to think about how _old_ I am." He stood there and pondered for a moment, then added, "On second thought, I _am_ that old, aren't I." 

Crusher did a scan of Apollo. Picard was taken a little aback, but Apollo stood there amused. She was staring intently at the readings. "That's strange," she said. "He's not reading as human. In fact, I'm not getting much of anything that makes sense." 

Apollo chuckled. "I should hope not. I haven't really been human for a long time." 

Picard was still awestruck by the moment. He thought at first that he shouldn't. After all, he's met his share of legends in the past... Ambassador Spock, Captain Scott, and Captain Kirk. But each time, the experience was never dulled. "But... what happened to you?" 

Apollo turned to face Picard and gave a smile that was innocent, yet foreboding. "Something wonderful," was all he said. 

~ * ~ 

As soon as Apollo had been assigned quarters, he had discarded his robe in the quarters assigned to him. He now wore only a jet black, form-fitting jumpsuit, and was taking a short tour of the ship. It amazed him that he could just feel the power that throbbed through the vessel's veins, and thrummed like a thing alive. He had stopped by Engineering, where he met an interesting person. The Chief Engineer, a Geordi LaForge, had bionic eye implants. LaForge had explained that he once wore a visor that enabled him to see, but that his new implants did the same things his visor did without the discomfort. He was a little reluctant at first to show Apollo around the department, remembering the time he spent with Captain Scott. But Apollo proved himself quick to pick up concepts, which gave LaForge reason to believe he wasn't entirely unfamiliar with the updated technology. 

Stellar Cartography was another thrill for Apollo. Instead of a room filled with screens that just showed star charts, as he had on the _Valiant_, instead he stood out on a gantry in the middle of a vast chamber completely filled with a holographic representation of explored space. He watched as the technician on duty charted ship deployments and spatial anomalies. The first indication he got that anything was wrong was when he asked about the strange red symbols they were tracking. The moment she mentioned enemy movements, he received a chill up his spine. He now looked at the graphics in a different light, and he didn't like what he saw. He smiled, excused himself and thanked the tech for her help, and left the chamber. 

The turbolift doors opened, depositing Apollo onto the bridge. Instantly, he could tell the differences between his ship and this one. The colors here were darker, but the lighting was more aesthetically placed. Each station was positioned in a way that the captain could more or less have eye contact with each officer. The helm and navigation positions had been separated; they still faced toward the main viewscreen, which Apollo immediately noticed was another holographic projection, but they were angled slightly inward. There were two extra positions on either side of the elevated captain's chair. Riker was sitting in the one to Picard's right, looking better than he had when they arrived. Apollo made a mental note to visit Sickbay while he was aboard, to see how medical science had advanced. 

Another thing Apollo noticed were the uniforms. While Apollo was fond of the black pants and red jacket he used to wear, he also liked the new styles. They kept the pants, though they were differently styled, but now the tunics were black with gray ribbed shoulders. From what he could see, the shirt worn underneath denoted the person's department. He smiled inwardly that they went back to the basic color schemes he saw when he was in the Academy; but he looked again, and something was wrong. Picard and Riker were wearing red shirts, but they were obviously Command personnel. He immediately realized that, since he remembered seeing Crusher, and she still wore a blue shirt, Command and Support must have switched colors. He chuckled as he joked to himself that someone who must have been a security guard actually made it to admiral, and out of a fit of revenge, switched the color schemes so the gold shirts could get killed for a change. 

He snapped out of his introspection when he suddenly realized that Picard had noticed him, and was calling to him. By now, every eye was focused on him. He raised his eyebrows at Picard. 

Picard smiled. "I said, welcome to the bridge, Captain." 

The person at the position that Apollo thought was the helm raised a finger to Picard as though he were about to point something out to Picard. It turned out that Apollo was right. "Excuse me, Captain, but technically, Mr. Racer is no longer in Starfleet. He entered inactive duty on stardate 9741.8. After an established point in time, according to Starfleet regulations, he would be presumed dead, and his rank retired." 

Apollo's eyes widened. If he were the captain, and one of his crew questioned him while on the bridge, he or she would have gotten a severe reprimand. As it was, Picard turned to the person with an expression that looked as though he had gone through this routine several times before. "Data..." Picard began, a little wearily, from the sound of it. 

Apollo decided to head Picard off and save this crewmember from the perceived tongue-lashing. "Ah, Mr.... uh..." he glanced at Picard, "Data?... I believe it also states in a subparagraph of that very reg that if it is proven that the officer was merely missing and not killed, he could be reinstated upon his return. Am I correct?" 

The pale officer stopped and looked for all the world as though he just spaced out. Then, he said, "Yes. You are correct. It is a little-used clause, considering that very few Starfleet officers who were declared missing have been found alive." 

"Ah, aha," Apollo said, wondering if he had just been insulted. "Well, Captain, I think I should resolve this matter, and then, I need to speak with you." 

Picard nodded. "Of course." 

"Computer," Apollo said, addressing the air in front of him, "match voice print with archival records on Racer, Apollo A., Captain. Last known status: Inactive. Authorization code Racer Kappa 1 Echo." 

The computer chirped and whirled, indicating it was processing. Finally, it said, in a distinctly feminine voice, "_Voice print match. Pattern belongs to Racer, Apollo A._" 

He smiled and looked at Picard. "Would you mind sending a record of the match to Starfleet, along with my request to be reinstated to active duty?" 

"Of course, Apollo," Picard could barely hide his elation. 

"And now, for that other matter." 

Picard gestured. "We can speak in my Ready Room." He headed toward a door on the far side of the bridge. 

_Ready room?_ Apollo mouthed the words as he thought them, but followed Picard through the door. 

Picard's Ready Room was a comfortable little office set off from the bridge. He had a viewport that looked outside the ship. Stars streaked by, distorted by the effect of warp speed. The room itself was done in shades of light brown. Taking up an entire wall was a collection of gold ship models. Apollo could recognize the first three models, a _Constitution_-, _Enterprise_-, and a modified-_Excelsior_-class ship, to be precise. The last ship in line he recognized as the current _Enterprise_, but only because it was logical to include it in the collection. He had also seen it as the runabout approached it, too. 

"Small room," he remarked to Picard. "Not much space." 

Picard nodded solemnly. "I liked my last one," he said. "Much more room to move about." 

Apollo raised an eyebrow. "Your last one?" 

"Yes. On the _Enterprise-D_." He looked at and pointed out the fifth ship in the collection. "Unfortunately, it was lost in the line of duty." 

"A shame. But if I had to lose my ship, I wouldn't lose it any other way." As he said this, his face took on a haunted expression, as though his statement hit closer to home than he would have liked Picard to see. Suddenly, his head snapped up to look squarely at Picard. "Why are we at war, Captain?" 

Picard suddenly grew serious. "Apollo, I don't..." 

"_Bullshit!_ Don't you _dare_ tell me you don't know what I'm talking about. Just because I was gone doesn't mean I was out of touch!" He paused, trying to make sure what he just said made any sort of sense. When he was satisfied it did, he continued. "I was in Stellar Cartography earlier today. The officer there was tracking our ships and ships she admitted were of the enemy. And I saw more of their ships than I saw of ours. Now, do you want to keep trying to leave me in the dark, or do you want to tell me just what the hell is going on?" 

Suddenly, Picard could see why Apollo was so effective as a leader. His willingness to get answers and his determination to get things done were not something of which one wanted to get in the way; Picard noticed it especially by the hard edge to Apollo's glare. The glowing blue eyes didn't help much, either. 

Picard took a deep breath and spoke in a quiet, matter-of-fact tone. "We are at war with an organization called the Dominion. They come from the Gamma Quadrant, and their attitude toward us at first was that they didn't want us going into their territory. However, the leaders of the Dominion, the Founders, wanted to ensure that we didn't. So they formed an alliance with the Cardassian Empire here in the Alpha Quadrant. Together, they intend to take over the Alpha Quadrant." 

Apollo's eyes reduced to slits. "I've been there, and I didn't encounter any Dominion while I was there." 

"You were in the Gamma Quadrant?" 

Apollo shrugged. "Yeah, well, when you've got about seventy-five or so years to kill, you tend to travel a lot. And you'd be amazed at the things I've seen. I ran into this nasty-looking race, a bunch of pasty-faced cyborgs. They wanted me to join them, but I didn't like their dress code. What did they say they were? Bored? Well, they sure acted bored. I mean, I've had more fun watching grass grow than it seems they've had." 

Picard was startled with recognition. "The Borg," he whispered. 

Apollo snapped his fingers and pointed at Picard. "That's what they called themselves. The Borg." 

"You encountered the Borg? By yourself? And survived?" 

"They kept wanting to... uh... assimilate me. I had to show them I wasn't too keen on the idea. Do you realize how hard it is to blow one of their ships up?" 

Picard smirked. "We've... uh... had our own share of experiences with the Borg. So you managed to destroy one of their vessels?" 

Apollo nodded. "Oh yes. Several, in fact. They really got me pissed when they destroyed my ship. That's when I really started tearing them apart." 

Picard sat in his chair and crossed his arms, clearly being amused and starting not to believe him. "Is that so? Tell me, what did you use to 'tear them apart,' your bare hands? Or did you have a spanner wrench?" 

Apollo's face took a decidedly dark appearance. "You don't believe me." 

Picard straightened up. "I did not say that..." he said. 

"Yes. You did. I can prove it." 

"You do not need to..." 

Apollo placed his hands on Picard's desk and leaned over it, looking for all intents and purposes like a predator. "I _will_ prove it." 

By an unseen force, Picard was knocked back into his chair. His eyes grew large as suddenly, in his mind, he saw images that could only have been from Apollo's point of view. Images that showed him crashing through Borg ship material. His vision was tinged by what looked to be a blue glow. At seemingly random intervals, he would be blinded by a sharp blue light, only to then see twin beams of energy streak away from him to disintegrate large portions of the Borg superstructure. He would then see space for a moment, followed by a disorienting change of view. The remains of the Borg ship whipped into view just as it blew apart. 

Picard was shocked back into reality. Apollo was still staring at him. Picard stood up, grasping the side of his chair for support. "What... what did you... what did you do..." 

"You just witnessed one of my memories, Picard. Would you like to see another one?" 

Picard shook his head. "_No!_ No, that won't be necessary." 

"Good. I'm glad I could convince you. Now, back to this war. You mentioned something about this Dominion being teamed up with people called Cardassians? Who are they?" 

After Picard had fully regained himself, he picked up a padd on his desk and handed it to Apollo. Apollo studied it quizzically for a moment, until he accidentally tapped a button and a report appeared on the small screen. "Amazing," Apollo muttered. Then he noticed a picture of an alien on the screen. "Who is this?" 

Picard leaned over to look. "That is Gul Damar. He is a Cardassian, and leader of their military." 

Apollo studied the picture. "Hmmm... Ugly lookin' snake, isn't he? Just by looking at him, I know I could only trust him as far as you could throw him." 

"As far as _I_ could throw him? Don't you mean as far as _you_ could throw him?" 

"No. Actually, I could throw him pretty far." 

Picard let out a sigh of exasperation. "The point is, this is with whom we're at war." 

"Ah, aha. That's all I wanted to know, Captain." With that, he walked out of the Ready Room. Picard quickly followed. 

"Captain," Riker said as soon as he noticed Picard exiting, "we've received word from Starfleet Command." The first officer stood up and approached the two men. "They told us to stay on our present course. They're sending a ship to meet us at _Deep Space Nine_." 

Picard looked puzzled. "A ship. Why?" 

"They didn't say. Their orders were just that if we were absolutely sure that Apollo is who he says he is, then we were to make sure he gets to _DS9_." He turned to Apollo, extending his hand. "Oh, and they confirmed your reinstatement. Welcome back, Captain." Riker flashed Apollo a smile. 

Apollo shook Riker's hand. "Thank you, Commander. It's been a while since I've officially been called that. How long until we reach... uh... _Deep Space Nine_?" 

Data spoke up. "At present speed, we should reach Deep Space Nine in 7 hours and 43 minutes." 

Apollo smiled at Data. "Very well, that gives me a chance to get some sleep. It's been a busy day." He bounded up to the turbolift and disappeared inside as the doors closed behind him. The two officers stared after him. "Quite an individual," Riker said with a grin. 

Picard, however, was more concerned. "You don't know the half of it." 


	3. Sentinel of Past and Future: Chapter 3

_CHAPTER THREE_

Activity continued as normally as could be expected aboard the Federation space station _Deep Space Nine_. For the time being, the war with the Dominion almost seemed a distant memory; except for the fact that starships would come in from the sectors on the fringe of the war zones, bearing all-too obvious reminders of the war. 

Captain Benjamin Sisko watched from a viewport on the Promenade, as the _USS Nimitz _was tractored into a berth at upper pylon 3. An attempted kamikaze attack from a Jem'Hadar warship had sheared off the _Nimitz's_ starboard nacelle, causing lateral damage along her secondary hull. Plasma streamed from the pylon where the nacelle was once mounted, leaving a trail that told the path the ship took to get to them. Sisko shook his head. The casualties were mounting at an incredible rate. If something weren't down to turn the tide soon, the Federation may just end up losing the war. 

Movement in the corner of Sisko's eye caught his attention, and he turned to see his son, Jake, approaching him with Kasidy Yates at his side. "C'mon, Dad," Jake said. "We'll be late for the baseball game." 

Kasidy's brother played on a baseball team; the colonies on Cestus III had just recently revived the sport, a task that pleased Sisko to no end. "Something wrong, Ben?" asked Kasidy. 

He pointed out to her the ship that just came in. "We've been getting more of this kind of thing. I don't know how much longer we can take of this." 

She placed her hand on his cheek. "Ben, I understand your concern. We both do. But this is why you need to take some time off. We both agreed that as soon as you left Ops, you wouldn't think about the war. Now can we go?" 

He kept staring out the viewport for a moment longer. Then he turned to her and smiled. "You're right. We'd better be going," he agreed. His smile was infectious; both Kasidy's and Jake's grins widened. 

Before he could take a step, however, he saw a shadow play across the station outside the viewport. A _Sovereign_-class starship came into view; it's path showed it to be swinging around to dock at upper pylon 2. Sisko saw the ship's registry, and his smile disappeared. 

"Now what?" Kasidy said. 

"What's the _Enterprise_ doing here already?" Even as the words left his lips, he was heading towards the accessway to the pylon. Sisko had intended to be off the station when the _Enterprise_ was scheduled to arrive. The report had simply stated that she was here to rendezvous with another ship from Earth. Both ships had important passengers, the report had said, but it didn't specify who was on either ship. 

While Sisko was curious, he was still a little uncomfortable having Picard return to the station. The last time he was here, five years ago, things got a little tense between them. Their differences were worked out, but there was still a residue. Now, though, since the _Enterprise_ showed up early, Sisko's curiosity won out, and soon he found himself waiting by the airlock. It cycled through and the door opened to reveal Captain Picard. He was smiling, which instantly made Sisko feel relieved. 

"Greetings, Captain Sisko," Picard said cheerfully. He then noticed Jake and Kasidy, who had trailed behind Sisko. "I hope our arrival didn't interrupt anything." 

"Actually, I was on my way out for my vacation. You're here early, Captain," Sisko commented. 

"Well, our passenger felt if he was asked to be here, then the sooner he arrived the better," Picard said. 

At that moment, Kira Nerys came around the bend. She was startled by Sisko's presence. "Captain," she said, with a quizzical smile on her face, "I thought you and Kasidy were going to a ball game." 

"We were, but curiosity got the best of me." 

Kira nodded. "We were only informed of the _Enterprise's_ arrival just before she showed up. Welcome aboard _Deep Space Nine_, Captain Picard. Will your passenger be disembarking shortly? We'd like to get suitable quarters for him." 

"Yes, Captain," Sisko added. "The report didn't give specifics on your arrival. Who is your mysterious passenger?" 

"That would be me, Captain." 

Sisko and Kira turned at the new voice heard coming from the airlock. They saw a tall man walk through the door. He was also wearing the gray, black, and burgundy uniform of a Starfleet captain. His black hair was silver at the temples, and his face had a chiseled look to it. But all that was overshadowed by his glowing blue eyes. 

"Captain Sisko, Major Kira," Picard said, still smiling, "may I present..." 

"Captain Apollo Racer," Sisko finished for him, awed. 

Apollo raised an eyebrow at Sisko's reaction. "Am I going to get this from everyone I meet?" 

"You very well might, Captain," Picard answered. 

Kira smiled at Apollo. "If you'd like," she said, "I can show you to your quarters. And don't worry... you won't find me falling all over myself just to please you." 

He laughed. "I like her! A very refreshing attitude." 

Sisko chuckled. "I'm glad someone thinks so." He smirked at her to let her know he was kidding. "Seriously, Major Kira is one our most valuable officers." 

He nodded. "At any rate, I rested up on the way here, so I can wait for now on the quarters. Perhaps I could see your command center?" 

Sisko started down the corridor. "Right this way." 

As they headed for Ops, Apollo remarked. "I watched the station as we approached. It's quite a piece of work." 

"It's home." Suddenly his son and fiancee appeared from around a bend. "Jake! I'd like you to meet a legend in Starfleet. Captain Apollo Racer. Captain, this is my son, Jake." 

Jake politely extended his hand. "A pleasure to meet you, sir." 

"Thank you, Jake." Apollo shook Jake's hand. 

Kasidy looked pleadingly at Sisko. "Ben, we really have to get going if we don't want to miss the opening pitch." 

Sisko seemed to consider his options. "I... think you'd better go ahead without me." 

Apollo's head had perked up with Kasidy's statement. "First pitch... as in baseball?" At Kasidy's nod, Apollo looked at Sisko. "Captain, for God's sake, don't you _dare_ miss a baseball game on my account; I had protested enough when they got rid of the sport back in my time. I'm sure the Major here can show me Ops quite ably; more so if she knew you weren't hovering over us." He smiled at Sisko over the ribbing; the fact that Kira also grinned told Apollo that was exactly what Sisko would have done. 

That seemed to make up Sisko's mind. Turning to leave, he looked briefly at Picard. "Captain Picard, welcome back." 

"Thank you. Now go. We shall still be here when you return." 

As the three of them headed off toward the runabout pads, Apollo called after them, "And Captain. Be sure to catch a fly ball for me." Sisko looked back and nodded before disappearing around a corner. Apollo turned to Kira and waved her through. "Major, if you please?" The two captains followed the major to Ops. 

~ * ~ 

Ops was a swirl of activity. Lt. Commander Dax was helping Chief O'Brien allocate more power to upper pylon 3 so they could support the _Nimitz's_ systems while she underwent repairs. Dax would run from her station where she would conduct the necessary tests over to the repair pit where O'Brien would have his hands deep inside the access panels. Lt. Commander Worf was discussing station security procedures with Security Chief Odo. It was always an issue where they only tentatively agreed upon, although Worf always thought security should be tighter, else he wouldn't be staying in his quarters aboard the _Defiant_. The other various personnel who manned the other stations around the perimeter of the command area were efficiently doing their work. 

Only a couple of people looked up from what they were doing when the lift came up from the promenade. Most assumed it was just Major Kira coming back to let them know about why the _Enterprise_ was here early. One of the people who looked up was O'Brien. "Holy..." he started to say. 

"What is it, Chief?" Dax said before seeing the trio emerge from the lift. 

Worf and Odo weren't stunned, however, and came over to meet the newcomers. "Captain Picard. It is good to see you again," Worf said. 

"Good to see you, too, Worf. How is station life treating you?" 

"As well as could be expected," Worf replied. The way he said it, however, indicated there was more to the story, and his glance toward Odo confirmed it. 

"Who is this?" Odo asked, gesturing at Apollo. 

"This is Captain Racer," Kira said. "He'll be here waiting for the ship from Earth to arrive." 

"Oh. Great. Another captain," said Odo in his gruff tone. Only those who worked with him knew he was being sarcastic. 

"Captain Racer? _The_ Captain Racer?" Worf said. He shifted his weight and straightened a bit. "That is impossible!" he said in an accusatory tone. 

Apollo snorted. "I would have said the same about a Klingon in a Starfleet uniform at one point in time." 

"You know of him, Worf?" Picard said. 

Worf nodded. "There are a few stories of Captain Racer in the Empire. He had established himself as an honorable warrior. There were Klingons who would refrain from fighting Racer out of respect for him." 

Apollo snorted again. "You doubt the tales?" Worf said, almost seeming offended. 

Apollo chuckled. "I should hope so. I was there. From my accounts, they were practically fighting each other for the honor of doing battle with me. If I recall, it was usually the crew of the ship that left who were glad they had lost the right to fight me; they were usually the ones who survived." 

Worf's eyes widened, and his nostrils flared when recognizing the challenge, but Picard stepped in. "Gentlemen, this whole point is moot." He turned to Apollo. "Captain, the Klingons have a treaty with the Federation. They are our allies now," he said, as though the fact that Worf wore one of their uniforms didn't tell Apollo that much. 

Apollo's eyes narrowed. "There are those who would disagree with you, Picard," he said, remembering the fight on the smuggler's world. 

"There are some factions that disagree with the treaty," Worf said. "But they are minor houses. They hold no real power in the Empire." 

Apollo raised an eyebrow at that statement, but chose not to say anything. At that moment, he became aware of someone behind him. He turned to see an officer... no, wait. _The rank pin on his collar is different_, thought Apollo. _Probably enlisted; but a high-ranking NCO from the looks of it_. The man wore mustard, the color of support, and had curly, red hair. 

"Excuse me." 

"Ah, Chief O'Brien," Picard said, "it's been quite a while." 

O'Brien shook Picard's hand. "Aye, sir. It has been, hasn't it?" He looked at Apollo. "Excuse me," he said again, "but aren't you..." 

Apollo chuckled. "Yes, Chief, I am Captain Racer." He shook O'Brien's hand. "He turned his head toward Picard and said out of the corner of his mouth, "You know, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea if we just held a meeting of all the Starfleet people here so I could get this over with." 

Picard smiled, and decided to help Apollo out. "Ah, Chief, perhaps you could tell me how well managed to bring this station back to full working order..." he took O'Brien by the shoulder and led him back toward the maintenance pit. 

Apollo smiled and looked toward Odo, who had been studying the captain the entire time. The smile faded. "Something I can help you with?" 

Odo continued studying Apollo. "Hmm, your eyes. I was wondering how you managed to do that. You're not entirely human, are you?" 

Apollo glared at Odo. "What was your first clue? Judging by your suspicious nature, I'd say you were part of this station's security." 

"You have remarkable insight." 

"Call it occupational courtesy." 

"Well, you're right. I'm the station's security chief. I don't care if you are in Starfleet _or_ a legend. All I want is that you remember that." 

Apollo looked at Odo, and gave him a mischievous grin. "You're not entirely human, are you?" he said mockingly. 

Odo growled and stalked off toward the turbolift. Apollo smiled. "I can tell he's a lot of laughs." 

Worf watched Odo as he left. "Yes. Odo and I may disagree on certain things, but he does do a good job." 

Apollo's mood lightened. "Hmmm. Intriguing. I think he and I could actually get along then. You know, I used to be a Security Chief once, a long time ago. And how about you, Worf? What is your position on this station?" 

"I am the Strategic Operations Officer. On certain occasions, I also command the _USS Defiant_," he said. Pride started to creep into his tone. 

The captain nodded. "I believe I saw it. That was the ship docked below the _Nimitz_, wasn't it? She looked pretty sleek." 

Kira walked up to the two officers. "Captain, we just got word from the starship _Tolstoy_. They'll be here within the next couple of hours. If you'd like to take a tour of the station, I'm sure I could arrange something," she said, smiling cordially. 

He returned the smile. "Why, thank you, Major, uh, what was your name again?" 

"Kira. Major Kira Nerys," she replied. 

"Right. Kira. I'll try to remember that. Thank you, but I don't want anyone to go through any special trouble for me. You won't mind if I lose myself in your station, will you?" 

Her smile broadened. "Not at all. We'll contact you as soon as the _Tolstoy_ arrives." 

Apollo nodded his thanks and walked to the turbolift, with Odo following him. He stood there for a moment, and it dawned on them that he didn't know the decks to call to get the lift moving. Picard was just finishing with O'Brien, so they joined Apollo. "Promenade," O'Brien said, and they started down. 

"We're going to a square dance?" Apollo said just before the lift disappeared below Ops. 


	4. Sentinel of Past and Future: Chapter 4

_CHAPTER FOUR_

Apollo had spent about an hour walking around the Promenade, taking in the sights, the sounds, and the smells. He passed by the giant viewports giving him a fantastic view of exterior portions of the station. He was looking at crews working on the damaged ship he saw on his way in when he suddenly heard behind him, "Enjoying _Deep Space Nine_?" 

Apollo spun at the sound of the voice, and found himself facing a Cardassian. He must have been about to attack, because the Cardassian stepped back a few feet. "I... didn't mean to startle you." 

The officer glared at this man, studying him intently. "You could have fooled me, Cardassian." Apollo virtually spat the name out. 

"So you're the famous Captain Racer," he paused. "You don't look like much." 

"What are you doing on this station? Why hasn't Odo..." 

"I'm just a plain. simple tailor. My name's Garak." 

Apollo looked deep into Garak's eyes. Garak felt as though someone were driving a white-hot spike through his brain, but he held his ground. Finally, Apollo broke off his gaze and smiled coldly. "Not just an ordinary tailor." He dropped his alert pose, and took on a less threatening air. "My apologies. It's just that the only time I saw an example of your race, Captain Picard was showing me an image of Gul Damar." 

"Oh. Certainly not the best example of our race. Apology accepted, Captain. Tell me, what brought you back here?" 

Apollo shrugged. "The _Enterprise_ did. Why do you ask?" 

Garak sighed, a little exasperated. "No, I mean _why_ did you come back? After such a long time?" 

He was about to answer, when suddenly he realized he didn't really have a clear answer for that. He thought about it for a moment as they started walking along the Promenade. "You know, I'm not entirely sure. Guess it was convenient for me at the time. I helped a couple of Starfleet officers out of a jam, one thing led to another, and the next thing you know, I was brought here." 

"Ah. So, you've basically just been going wherever your travels take you, is that it?" 

Apollo thought more about it, and smiled. "Yes. Yes, you could say that." 

They were passing by the entrance to Quark's Bar when suddenly Apollo stopped short, feeling a familiar tingle start at the base of his skull and work its way down his spine. "What is it, Captain?" asked Garak. 

"I don't exactly know, but that will change soon, you can count on it." On that note, Apollo walked into Quark's. 

As he entered, Apollo was overwhelmed by a menagerie of sights, sounds, and smells. He made his way to the bar, where a Ferengi was mixing drinks. He sneered. 

"Something wrong, Captain?" Garak said. 

"That's a Ferengi," he replied, as though his answer told the whole story. 

"I... take it you've met them before." 

Apollo was about to reply when he heard, "Captain! Captain Racer, sir?" 

He turned his head and saw Chief O'Brien. He was sitting further down the bar with another officer wearing Science colors. They both appeared to be drinking... pints of ale. Curious, Apollo made his way to them and smiled. "Greetings, Chief. This may sound a little corny, but... do you come here often?" 

O'Brien chuckled, and his friend groaned. "Captain, this is Dr. Bashir, our Chief Medical Officer. Julian," O'Brien said, pausing for dramatic effect, "this is Captain Apollo Racer." 

Bashir straightened at hearing this. "But that's impossible. Captain Racer served in Starfleet almost 100 years ago. And you don't look that old." 

Apollo chuckled. "I'll take that as a compliment, since actually I'm about 350. And I still do serve in Starfleet, thank you." 

Bashir was taken aback for only a moment. Then his scientific nature took over. He leaned toward Apollo, studying him. "What causes your eyes to glow in such a manner?" 

Apollo pondered that question. "You know, in all the years I've been this way, I never found out. I didn't bother to find out, either, because I didn't deem it important." He was about to say more when he looked over Bashir's shoulder. "Well... I'll be..." He left the bar, heading around the two men. They followed his gaze until they noticed what had gotten his attention. Apollo walked up to the far wall, where a dartboard hung. The lights around its perimeter winked on and off. "I haven't seen one of these in a long, long time." 

O'Brien smirked. "Would you like a go, Captain?" 

Apollo thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No, thank you. It's been quite some time since I played... I'm bound to be a bit rusty." 

But O'Brien wouldn't take no for an answer. He swiped the darts that were left in a mug on the bar off to his side, and brought them over to Apollo. "Please, Captain, just give it a try." 

Apollo looked at the chief askance. "Well, okay. But I'm not as good as I used to be." 

O'Brien smirked and shrugged. "Oh, that's all right, sir." 

Apollo took the darts, testing the weight. He raised his eyebrow in approval. Suddenly, in a rapid-fire side-arm motion, he flung the darts one at a time toward the board. The dartboard tweedled each time as one, two, three darts hit dead in the bullseye. As the two men's jaws just about dropped off their faces, the captain gestured toward the board and said, "There, you see? In my heyday, those darts would have been _much_ closer together." He walked away as Bashir and O'Brien inspected the board. The darts had been embedded up to their shafts, barely a centimeter between each of them. They looked at each other in astonishment, then watched Apollo walk away. 

Apollo was about to leave when he suddenly heard some noise in the back room. The base of his neck tingled, and he felt he should investigate. When he reached the doorway, he started hearing signs of a hushed argument. 

"...were going to pay me _more_ for these, Quark..." 

"...market's down; I can't expect to profit from..." 

Figuring he had heard enough, Apollo barged into the back room, startling its occupants. "What's going on in here?" he said authoritatively. He looked at a table between the room's two occupants. All sorts of devices and treasures lay sprawled over it. 

The Ferengi, who he assumed was Quark, tried not to be taken in, but Apollo could see the fear in his eyes. The Yridian, however, made no effort to hide how afraid he was. "N-now, this area is for authorized personnel only," said the Ferengi. "I'd appreciate it if you would please turn and leave the way you came." 

Apollo looked at Quark with disbelief, as though he was actually expected to obey the Ferengi. "What? Me, leave, and miss such a fascinating business transaction? Please, continue." 

He was going to play with Quark some more, when two things happened simultaneously. A tablecloth on a nearby table slid off its surface and started to change shape, reforming into constable Odo. And Apollo spotted something among the gadgets on the table that made him see red. In one motion, he scooped the device out of the pile, and slammed Quark up against the wall - literally up against the wall... Quark's feet were dangling three feet from the floor - causing the Ferengi to squeak in surprise and pain. Apollo's face was twisted in anger. "You little space monkey! Do you know what this is?" He shoved the device, which Odo, who now reformed from his covert shape, clearly saw as a gun, under Quark's nose. "_DO_ you!!?" 

Quark was shaking visibly, but he attempted to keep his voice nonchalant. He didn't do a very good job. "I honestly have never seen such a thing before in my..." 

He wasn't given a chance to finish, because Apollo practically shoved the gun up Quark's nose. "This is a spiderweb gun. It has been banned from the Federation since before _I_ joined up. Do you realize the penalty for even being in possession of such a thing!?" 

Quark's partner in crime attempted to sneak out the back, but the Yridian was kept in place when Odo slapped a firm hand down on his shoulder. "And just where do you think _you're_ going?" Seeing that his man wasn't going anywhere, he looked to Apollo. "Captain, I appreciate your help, but I had these two under watch since they came in here. I can take it from here." 

Apollo swung the hand holding the gun out, pointing at Odo. From what the constable could see, with the pressure Apollo had put on the gun, it wasn't about to fire anymore; the barrel had been twisted and bent in his grip, the trigger stuck out to the side, and the hammer of the pistol was mashed into place. No, that gun wouldn't be used anytime soon. "Stay out of this, changeling," hissed Apollo. 

But Odo wouldn't back down. "I _said_ I'll take it from here, Captain," Odo replied, keeping his voice firm. 

Apollo sneered at Odo, then returned his fiery blue gaze to Quark, who no longer tried to keep his fear from showing. Without warning, the captain let go of Quark, who dropped to the floor in a very undignified manner. Apollo tossed the now-useless weapon on the table, and was about to leave, when something on the floor caught his attention. He looked at a rather large but shallow basin. "And what archaeological site did you take this from?" He peered inside. "Odd. It's filled with some kind of liquid. Seems to be moving a little." 

Odo instantly realized what it was. "_Captain, get back_," he roared, but his warning was too late. 

The liquid inside the basin expanded upward, looking like nothing so much as a large, orange, fluid slug. It struck Apollo in the face and chest, sending him backward. Odo ducked back out of the way as the shape wound its way past him; in the process, he inadvertently released his hold on the smuggler, who once again took his chance to escape. He rushed out through the front as Apollo was just shaking off the blow. 

"Go after that... thing!" Apollo ordered Odo. "I'll get Shorty." He got up off the floor and took off through the bar. He made it into the main area of the bar when he stopped due to the crowd. "Hold it right there!" Apollo shouted after the smuggler, but he could only watch as his perpetrator rush out the front entrance. Knowing what to do, he ducked into a foyer. 

O'Brien, seeing this started toward where he saw Apollo go. "Captain, where are you..." but his words were cut off as he shielded his eyes from a bright flash of light. When his vision cleared, he looked in the foyer, but Apollo wasn't there. He came back out, and Bashir should see the perplexed look on his face. 

~ * ~ 

The Yridian had always prided himself on being a fast runner. He already knew he left that dumb captain and any other persuer far behind. He had already made it to the docking ring of the station. A few more meters, and he would be at the airlock where his ship was docked. He would be disengaged and through the wormhole before they even discovered where he went. He started to smile, but it was wiped off his face as he first saw a flash of light ahead of him, then he slammed into a brick wall. As he lay on his back looking up at the ceiling, the captain he swore he left back at Quark's stood over him. "Are you deaf, is your translator malfunctioning, or do you just have a hard time comprehending the concept of 'stop'?" 

As two Bajoran security officers showed up, Apollo hit his combadge, "Racer to Odo." 

"_Odo here_," came the reply. He sounded as though he were running. 

"The smuggler is in custody. Do you have yours?" 

"_It's heading for cargo bay 3. If I can seal it off there, it shouldn't be able to escape_." 

"I'll meet you there," Apollo said. 

"_Impossible_," Odo answered, "_I'll have the place sealed by the time you get here_." 

"I'll be there. Racer out." Apollo looked to the men and said, "I believe you know where he can go." He headed onto the bridge back toward the habitat ring. As the men picked the smuggler off the floor, they saw a flash of light come from the bridge. They looked around the corner, but no one was there. 

~ * ~ 

Odo rushed into the cargo bay and immediately gave the commands to seal it off. He had just seen the other changeling enter, so he knew it was trapped. As he searched through the bay, he bumped into Apollo. "Hold it right there," he commanded. 

"Told you I'd be here," Apollo replied. 

"Uh huh," Odo nodded in disbelief. "And it's more likely you decided to take this shape to throw me off." 

"What the hell are you..." Apollo stopped in mid-sentence and immediately looked off to the side. Odo was puzzled, and Apollo took only two steps when the changeling came charging out at them. "Not this time," he said. He pushed his hands sharply out in front of him, and Odo saw a blue ball of energy shoot out and strike the changeling. The ball expanded into a type of forcefield that surrounded the changeling. It briefly changed into humanoid form, but then it started shapeshifting rapidly, trying to find any form it could use to escape. But Apollo saw this, and started to shrink the field. As a result, the changeling was forced to use smaller and smaller forms. Finally, it was forced into its liquid shape, and the field formed a sphere, suspended in midair in front of the two of them. 

The changeling still tried escaping, doing everything from striking a concentrated point in the glowing blue ball of energy, trying to punch through it, to covering every square millimeter on the inside, in an attempt to exert as much force as possible at every point in the sphere. But Apollo held the shield, and finally it collapsed in a puddle inside the sphere. Apollo contracted it further until the changeling was compacted into a tight ball, and floated it an inch above his hand. He looked to the station's security chief. "I assume you have something more permanent to hold this in." 

Odo nodded blankly. "How did you do that? And how did you get here so fast? Did Dax do a site-to-site?" 

Apollo shook his head. "I'll explain later. Right now, you might wish to release the seals on the cargo bay." 

"Uh, of course." Odo unsealed the bay, and two Starfleet security officers entered. They were carrying a container that Odo recognized as the ersatz prison he was kept in when terrorists led by a Trill came aboard the station to steal the Dax symbiont. He watched as Apollo directed them to hold the container right under the force bubble, while he basically "poured" the changeling into the container. They activated the seals on the container and took it to the brig. Apollo was then about to walk out of the cargo bay. "Captain," Odo said. Apollo stopped, and peered back over his shoulder. "I've never before seen anyone do what you've done in here. How did you do it? What are you?" 

Apollo turned fully to look at him. After a moment of fixing the constable in his glowing gaze, he smiled coldly and walked out the door. 


	5. Sentinel of Past and Future: Chapter 5

_CHAPTER FIVE_

Deanna Troi was strolling through the Promenade when she saw Captain Racer gazing out one of the large viewports. She had spent some time talking to Worf, surprised to learn that he had married the Trill science officer on the station. She had only felt a slight twinge of disappointment, but thought nothing else of it. As long as Worf was happy, as happy as a Klingon would admit to getting, that is. Besides, the relationship between her and Riker was starting to pick up again. 

She had intended to quietly walk up behind Apollo; during the whole time she had been near time, she didn't get so much as a glimpse of his emotional state. They were tightly hidden behind shields. As she approached, she thought she could see him stiffen slightly, but as quickly as it seemed to have appeared, it was gone, so she thought nothing else of it. She had almost reached him when suddenly he said, "You know, Commander, I never can get enough of the beauty of space. Empty, but not empty. Dark, yet thousands of lights shine amidst it's velvet scenery. Almost makes one feel warm and safe, yet under the wrong conditions, it's cold, unyielding." 

Troi recovered quickly from being startled. "Interesting. Do you always see things with such duality?" 

Apollo slowly turned to face her. "Isn't that how things are, Counselor?" he asked, intentionally using her title as though to let her know he was aware that she was trying to shrink his head. "Light and dark? Good and evil? These things are never pure in any form. They exist everywhere, in everything." He turned back toward the viewport. "And everyone. That is what you're thinking, isn't it? Wondering what I have locked up so tightly in my mind?" 

Now she couldn't keep from letting her surprise show. "How did you..." 

"Oh, come on, Commander. Surely you've done some homework on me." 

A ship chose that moment to emerge from the wormhole. As the vortex burst open like a flower, it caught Apollo's attention. Suddenly, a memory he thought buried years ago came rushing back up with perfect clarity. He staggered slightly. His mental shields flagged, and Troi was brushed by the edge of an emotional wave of such intensity that she visibly weakened. She struggled, and through monumental effort, managed to regain control. 

None of this had escaped Apollo. "You don't like my thoughts, do you Counselor." he said dangerously. 

"I can only sense emotions," she replied automatically, "I'm only half-Betazoid." 

"But I have done my homework. You know as well as I do that song and dance only works with non-telepaths." His eyes narrowed to slits, but his neon-blue gaze continued to feel to her as though it penetrated through to her soul. He slowly nodded once, then added, "Would you truly wish to help if you knew what you were getting into?" 

His partially lowered his shields, and again she was hit with a wall of emotion. She let out a moan and staggered toward the railing that lined the walkway. "Such... despair..." she whimpered in a tiny voice, "mixed... with rage..." 

That rage was threatening to once again consume Apollo, and his look grew feral. "Would you like to see exactly what I've been hiding all these years?" On that note, he lowered his shields completely. 

All at once, she felt more than emotions. Images at first flooded her mind, but then they slowed to a certain point. She saw him on the bridge of a ship, years ago. He looked to the officer at the science position, and she felt an intense feeling of love and peace. That person obviously meant a great deal to him. 

Suddenly, the scene shifted. She saw him on the bridge of another, stranger ship. It was almost as if she were there, too, but only as an observer. She saw the immediate horror on his face, watching as a particle beam struck his ship and destroyed it. She recoiled, feeling as though something physically attached to her was instantly yanked and torn away. 

Then the scene darkened, as a black wave of destructive rage rolled over her and Apollo. As she watched with intense fear at the carnage he was creating before him, Troi's mind started shutting down, overwhelmed by the intensity. 

Kira was just getting off her shift. She stepped out of the turbolift onto the Promenade, and was instantly greeted by the sight of Troi, on her knees and in tears with a look of total fear on her face; Captain Racer was hovering over her, his face contorted in anger. She took the first option that entered her mind and ran with it. "Leave her alone!!" she shouted, leaping into a dead run. As she approached she showed no sign of recovering, nor he of letting up. "I said... _stop it!_" On her last two words, as she came to a stop, she put all her weight and momentum into a right cross that caught Apollo squarely on the chin. Unprepared for the attack, he was knocked back, off his feet, and over the railing. 

Kira stopped long enough to check on Troi, who had collapsed to a sitting position as soon as the link to Apollo was broken. "Are you all right, Commander?" Kira asked. Upon seeing Troi nod feebly, as she didn't yet have the strength to do much else, she rushed to the railing, slapping her combadge. "Kira to security. We have..." 

She was going to check over the railing, expecting to find Apollo's inert form lying on the floor of the level below. Instead, she jumped back shocked as he suddenly appeared in her face. He stood there, arms crossed, scowling at her; his anger was gone; he was completely impassive, yet the disapproval of her action was plain on his face as well. The thing that made the scene odd was that he was standing on the other side of the railing, in mid-air. 

Kira stood there in a defensive position as Odo came running over to her. Riker, who was talking to Picard, had been just walking around the bend further down when he saw Troi go to her knees and Kira slug Apollo over the railing. They rushed over to help Troi to her feet. "I'm all right," she said, "just a little overwhelmed." 

"A little?!" Kira objected. "What the hell was he doing to you?" 

They all looked to Apollo, waiting for an explanation, but he just hovered there, staring at Kira, moving his jaw back and forth, testing it to make sure it still worked. Troi spoke up. "He..." she paused, then turned out of habit to Picard. "I sensed that he was having a little difficulty. I was talking to him when the wormhole opened. It triggered a memory buried deep within him that caused him to temporarily lose control." 

"Temporarily, my foot." Kira still wasn't convinced. "If I hadn't stepped out when I did you would have lost consciousness." 

"I simply wasn't prepared for such an intense emotion," Troi said to Kira. "I would have been fine. The Betazoid mind is designed to shut down if it can't handle the stress of what it is experiencing." 

"Still," Picard said, "if Captain Racer was trapped in his emotion, there still was no telling what could have happened." He still remembered clearly his little encounter with Apollo in his ready room. 

Riker looked over to Apollo. "Captain Racer. Do you have anything to say?" 

Silence was his response at first. Finally, Apollo said, in an even, neutral tone, "Troi would not have been harmed." 

Picard looked to Troi, but she shook her head and said, "I can't read anything. His shields are up again; if possible, more tightly than before." 

Apollo placed his hands on the railing and vaulted over it, landing nimbly on the deck. It was at this point that the others who had arrived late to the scene realized he had been hovering in mid-air all this time. He turned to the constable. "Odo, I will go with you, if that is necessary." 

Odo didn't know what to think. He looked to Troi, who shook her head. "I'll be fine." She then said to Apollo, "Captain, you do have some issues that clearly need to be resolved. I'd still be willing to help you, now that I know what to expect." She smiled slightly to assure him that her offer was sincere, and not just her performing her duty. 

"Thank you, Counselor, I'll keep that in mind," he replied, the corners of his mouth turning slightly upwards themselves. "Constable?" he said to Odo, expecting a reply. 

"Uh... that won't be necessary, Captain. Just... don't let it happen again," he said, and headed back toward his office. 

Kira had relaxed from her stance. Apollo turned to leave, but stopped, and faced her again. "And Major," he said, a chilling smile creeping on to his face, "that was a very good blow you landed, but a word of advice. The next time you decide to attack me..." He put an underlying tone into his next words that sent a chill screaming down Kira's spine, "follow through and make sure I'm down for the count, or I guarantee you, you won't be using that hand for anything again." As he walked down the corridor, the temperature of the area where they were seemed to have dropped several degrees. 

~ * ~ 

During this whole episode of Apollo's flashback, something had happened. As he showed Troi what had happened, as he had replayed his memories for her, a circle had been closed, and a new cycle began. As the moment Apollo's ship was destroyed played itself out, Apollo did something unconsciously, something he had actively done during that same moment so many years ago. As the _Valiant_ was being obliterated in a massive ball of plasma, Apollo's thoughts raced out. These were the same thoughts he had back when it really happened. And they were basically summed up in one word: _safety_. 

In that same instant, somewhere in Federation territory, on a small, peaceful planet, a city full of people were calling it a night, turning off their lights, and getting ready for sleep. That night, some of the more sensitive people would have nightmares, but they would be forgotten shortly after they awakened the next morning. 

Out in the wilderness, several forms of nocturnal life flourished. The soothing sounds they made off in the darkness have been used on many occasion to lull those who found it hard to sleep into quiet restful slumber. 

That night, for no discernible reason, the sounds of the night creatures stopped as a loud cry of agony cut through the darkness and echoed across the land. There was dead silence for a few minutes, then, as though it never happened, the night sounds resumed their blissful song. 

In that same instant, encased in his own little subspace bubble, just enough out of phase so that no one on _DS9's_ Promenade could see him watching this spectacle, Q grinned. 


	6. Sentinel of Past and Future: Chapter 6

_CHAPTER SIX_

Sisko returned to the station in bright spirits. Kasidy's brother's team had won, and as a bonus, Sisko actually got to carry out Captain Racer's request, and caught a home run ball. He left the airlock with Jake; they were both smiling and having a good time. Dax had met them at the airlock, and smiled when she saw Sisko in a good mood. She made him feel even better when she told him that the _Nimitz_ had finished repairs early the night before; it had left this morning, shortly before Sisko arrived. He had noticed the _Enterprise_ was still here, but a new ship had added itself to the list. The _USS Tolstoy_ had arrived from Earth, bearing Fleet Admiral Nechayev. Sisko's smile had subsided somewhat upon hearing that, but he otherwise remained in a good mood. 

When he showed up at Ops for his shift, he greeted everyone warmly and headed for his office. A few minutes later, Kira showed up, smiling, and handed him the morning's reports. He was just finishing them up when his door chime sounded. "Enter," he said. 

The doors opened to admit Apollo. "Good morning, Captain. I trust your leave went well." 

"It sure did," he replied. He reached for a baseball sitting next to the one he kept on his desk, and tossed it to Apollo, who snatched it one-handed from the air. 

"You did it! Well, I have to admit I wasn't being serious when I asked you to catch a fly for me. But... thank you." Apollo smiled, and tossed the ball in the air a few times. "My God, do you realize how long it's been since I've held one of these." 

Sisko chuckled. "Probably since before you've ever heard of the Federation." 

"You're right." Apollo paused. "I take it you know who's here." 

Sisko's smile disappeared. Time for business. "I've met her a few times." 

Apollo sighed and paced Sisko's office. "No guesses as to why she's here. I'll probably have to go up in front of another board of inquiry." 

"Another board?" 

Apollo told him briefly about the time he had returned to Earth after having been rescued from the barrier, about how he went before an inquiry for the loss of the _Excalibur_. Sisko nodded in understanding. "I don't think you have anything to worry about. First of all, it was so long ago. And besides, at that time, I understand that starship captains rushed into the unknown all the time, instead of staying on their ships." 

Apollo stopped pacing and sat on the corner of Sisko's desk. He looked at Sisko and gave him a little smile. "Yeah, well, I understand they all but ignore that little policy these days, too." 

Sisko shrugged. "Who would have known that there were so many instances where we have no other choice?" he said, feigning innocence. 

Apollo was about to respond to that when the com went off. "_Dax to Sisko_." 

"Go ahead," he replied. 

"_Admiral Nechayev is here to see you and Captain Racer_." 

The two captains glanced at each other, the same thoughts crossing their minds. "Send her in," he finally said. 

They both stood as the doors opened and Admiral Nechayev walked in. "Gentlemen, at ease," she said. "It's good to see you again, Captain Sisko." 

"It's always a pleasure, Admiral. I just wish I knew if the reasons for your visit were good or bad." 

She smiled at Sisko, but otherwise said nothing. Instead she turned to Apollo. "The great Captain Apollo Racer. The whole way here I wondered what it would be like meeting up with one of Starfleet's finest historical figures. Somehow, I would have thought you were taller." 

Apollo thought this an odd statement coming from her; at last check, which was several years ago, Apollo considered himself pretty tall already at 6'6". He judged Nechayev to be somewhere around a full foot shorter. "We always tend to make the people we look up to seem larger than life. The opposite could not be more true." 

She nodded considering his words. "You were a brilliant tactician in your day. We could have used someone like you when this war began. I never expected you to be the Johnny-come-lately type." 

Sisko stood abruptly. "Admiral, what does..." 

"I don't believe I was addressing you, Captain," she said quietly but firmly. Apollo noticed her effect, as Sisko reluctantly sat back down and kept quiet. "Now, Racer. I just want make clear that I'm not making any accusations..." 

"Bullshit." 

Apollo's tone, like Nechayev's was low and even. Somehow, Sisko had difficulty making out what he just said, yet she heard him quite well. She faced him fully, bringing her full authority to bear. "Excuse me, Captain?" 

He turned his sapphire gaze upon her. "I said bullshit, _sir_. I know damn well that you're holding it against me. I didn't choose to come back, but Picard's crewmembers needed my help. I simply returned with them." 

"Because you were ordered to." 

"I was on inactive duty at the time. Technically, I wasn't subject to your authority." 

She seemed smug. "But now you're back on active duty, mister. So I'd watch my step if I were you." 

He got right in her face, which reflected the glow from his eyes. "I can change that back in a heartbeat." 

"We don't have to allow you to go back to inactive status." 

"Who said anything about going back to inactive." 

And right there, Sisko suddenly saw what Apollo had seen all along, what he was toying Nechayev with. Starfleet needed officers like him right now. The war had taken its toll on resources, true enough. But manpower was getting fairly low, too. At the rate they were going, they soon wouldn't have enough able or experienced people to command their ships. What Apollo had seen all along was the big picture; Starfleet was teetering at a critical phase of the war. One factor could either doom the Federation or save it. 

Sisko had a feeling he was looking at that factor right now. 

Nechayev picked up on his threat, and decided it was no bluff. But she was damned if she was going to give him the satisfaction of seeing how she really felt. In a nonchalant tone, she said, "Now Captain, you wouldn't take away my whole reason for coming all this way out here, now would you?" She smiled, but there was no warmth behind it. 

Apollo began pacing the office. After a moment, he spoke. "Let me tell you something, Admiral. The Starfleet I knew respected its officers and their opinions. There was politics, sure. It's inescapable. But when politics start to interfere in Starfleet's duties, then I have to draw the line. I want to say this _right_ here, _right_ now. I _will_ not stand for bureaucratic nonsense. If you want diplomacy, get yourself a damn ambassador. I'm a Starfleet officer. At least, for now. But I can change that mighty quick. If you think you can bully me into submission, I'm out that door right now, and the Federation can take a flying leap." 

Sisko was shocked to hear Apollo say he would turn his back on the Federation. All the reports and the articles he read suggested a very different man than the one who just made this threat to the admiral just now. Apparently, Nechayev was thinking the same way; she had expected someone who fit the reports she had read, not the man standing before her now. But she was thinking on her feet and still didn't back completely down. "Captain. Hold it a minute. We're being just a bit too hasty here. First off, let me apologize. I truly didn't mean to alienate you." 

"Could've fooled me," replied Apollo. 

"This isn't getting us anywhere." 

"That much is certain." 

Sisko thought he could see Nechayev's mask of calm slip to reveal how furious she was getting. "Admiral, Captain," he said, trying to calm things, "There's no reason to get into this. It would have been nice to have him here before the war began, but it just didn't turn out that way. To keep this up would be to drive Racer away. And Captain, she won't mention how badly we need you, but we _do_ need you." Apollo looked at him for what seemed a long time. Sisko continued. "If you came back, perhaps you could show us how Starfleet once was, so we could return to that age." 

Apollo worked his jaw, mulling it over. "You're saying that Starfleet has gone soft." 

Nechayev took over. "He's saying that right now, Starfleet could use all the help it can get, and if it means having to resort to using veterans from Starfleet's past, then we'll do it." 

Apollo considered his options. "When are you scheduled to return?" 

"This afternoon," she replied. 

He sighed and headed for the door. "Then I shall be aboard the _Tolstoy_ before it leaves." He stopped just before the door sensors could detect him. "If I may be dismissed?" Taking her stunned silence as an affirmative, he nodded to Sisko. "Captain." Allowing the doors to open, he made his way toward the turbolift. 

She looked toward Sisko. "Thank you for keeping things level in here, Benjamin." 

He sat back in his chair. "Don't thank me yet, Admiral. You still have to deal with him on the way back." 

~ * ~ 

Apollo was in his quarters on the station, lying back and relaxing. He had nothing to prepare per se in order to leave, so he just sat tight. He was about to drift off to sleep when he heard a voice in the room. "My, but you certainly had them jumping through hoops today." 

He sat up abruptly. "Who was that? Computer, repeat page." 

A bright flash appeared next to him, and saw a man in a Starfleet uniform sitting up by the head of the bed, his hands clasped around one leg while the other was stretched out. "I can't believe that after all this time, you're still going to play this game. Don't you ever tire of it eventually?" 

"Who the hell are you, mister?" Apollo snapped, leaping from the bed. His eyes flashed to their full brightness. 

"You have been hanging around with the mortals too long, haven't you? Do you mean to tell me you have absolutely no idea who I am?" 

Apollo studied the man. He was about average height, average build. He had gray hair at the temples, just as Apollo did, but there was an all-too-mischievous look on his face. His uniform, also like Apollo's, was that of a Starfleet captain. He carried himself with the airs of a man who felt confident that there was nothing he didn't know and nothing he couldn't do. Apollo fought his anger down and clicked his Vulcan controls into place. "That statement is illogical. If I had known who you were, would I have asked the question?" 

The being grinned. "Oh, you're good. Seething with anger one moment, calm and cool the next. One would think there are two of you sharing the same body." 

"If you think I am suffering from a bipolar condition, it has been proven otherwise. Now, are you going to tell me who you are and what you're doing here, or will I have to coolly and efficiently beat it out of you?" 

His visitor sighed. "Primitive. Utterly primitive." 

"But pleasurable." Apollo allowed a feral grin to creep onto his face. 

"Oh, all right. We'll have it your way. I am Q." 

Apollo's face went blank. 

"You're Cue?" 

"No, I'm Q." 

"Queue?" 

"_Q!_" 

"Are you sure? I've met an S once, and he looks just like you." 

Until Apollo allowed a smile to slowly creep onto his face, Q had no idea he was being mocked. "Your humor is painfully immature," he said. 

"You only say that because you didn't catch on right away," Apollo replied. He wasn't about to let up; he was having too much fun. 

Q, however, would have none of it. "I can see this is going nowhere. I'll leave you to your pathetic little one-liners. But I'll be back." And in a flash of light, Q disappeared. 

Which was exactly what Apollo wanted in the first place. He tapped his combadge. "Racer to Ops. I just had... a very interesting experience." 

~ * ~ 

Fifteen minutes later, he was in Ops, relating his visit to Sisko, Nechayev, and the rest of the officers in Ops. When he finished, he studied the reactions of the people around him. Sisko seemed to be smoldering, while Dax sat in quiet amusement. Worf scowled; well, Klingons normally scowled, but Worf's was... more pronounced. O'Brien looked like someone who was thinking, "There goes the neighborhood." Kira and Bashir had the same annoyed looks as Sisko. Nechayev was holding the bridge of her nose, as if to ward off a headache. Quite basically, Apollo had judged correctly upon his first contact. _This Q must definitely be a nuisance_, he thought, and he said as much to the group. 

"You don't know the half of it," O'Brien said. "Captain Picard was lucky he left with the _Enterprise_ already. If he had known Q was here, he'd have a fit." 

"Q liked him that much, did he?" Apollo asked amusingly. 

"He would visit the _Enterprise_ at least once a year," Worf growled, "and each time, we felt he didn't leave soon enough." 

Apollo raised an eyebrow at this comment. Sisko chuckled. "Captain?" Apollo prompted. 

"I'm just remembering the time he showed up here. He's only been to the station once." 

"You must have made quite an impression on him," Apollo said. 

This caused Sisko's grin to grow wider. "You could say that. He provoked me into slugging him." 

"Really." Apollo smiled. "Maybe I should try that the next time he shows up." 

"I would not advise it," Worf said. "That would be a very dangerous thing to do." 

Apollo thought about it for a moment. "Oh, I don't know. As I think of our conversation, what little we had, I think there was something he was trying to get me to realize. But he didn't seem to me to be very dangerous." 

There would have been further speculation, but Nechayev spoke up. "I'm afraid we have to cut this short. The _Tolstoy_ leaves in half an hour." 

"Right," Apollo said rising in his seat. He held out his hand for Sisko to shake. "Captain, I appreciate your hospitality." 

"It was an honor, Captain," Sisko said, pumping Apollo's arm. "I hope we can meet again someday." 

Apollo winked. "Count on it." He turned to Nechayev. "Sir, I didn't really arrive on the station with very much. Whatever I have is already on the _Tolstoy_. I'm ready to leave whenever you are." 

"Fine. Let's get started. Until next time, Benjamin." With that, she and Apollo entered the turbolift. "Docking ring," she stated, and the lift lowered them out of sight. 


	7. Sentinel of Past and Future: Chapter 7

_CHAPTER SEVEN_

The trip to Earth was pretty much uneventful. Any apprehension Nechayev had on traveling with a living legend shortly disappeared, as he rarely showed himself. Apollo spent most of the time in his quarters, meditating. On the way back, Apollo had received a strange... feeling was the closest term he could use; yet it was both more and less than that, though he couldn't exactly comprehend how. What he did feel after it left was a deep feeling of loneliness, though he wasn't sure where it came from. 

Nothing much had changed on Earth since the last time he had set foot there; the only significant changes he could see was in the different types of transportation. As he and Nechayev walked past Starfleet Headquarters on their way to the Presidio, where the President was currently in office, Apollo saw an elderly man tending to the landscape. Suddenly, the man stopped and looked up at him. He gave Apollo a small smile, nodding knowingly, and returned to his work. Apollo didn't know what to think of that, but kept on walking. 

As they entered the Presidio, the first thing that hit Apollo was the fact that they had gotten rid of those drab gray walls, in favor of more earthy tones. The decor was more stylish and pleasing to the eye. They walked through one door that opened for them to find someone sitting behind a desk. He saw the two officers approach his desk and stood. "Ah, Admiral Nechayev, welcome back." 

She bowed her head slightly. "Thank you Mr. President. May I present Captain Apollo A. Racer. Captain Racer, this President Jaresh-Inyo." 

Apollo dipped his head a little lower than Nechayev had. "A pleasure, Mr. President." 

"The pleasure is all mine, Captain. It is a great honor to meet one of the Federation's finest officers," said Jaresh-Inyo. 

Apollo felt a tinge of red entering his face. "To be honest, sir, I didn't even think of myself by that during my time; I certainly don't feel that I deserve it now." 

"Modesty is not one of your strengths, Captain. I've been through your file, I know what you've accomplished in the past. No, the restrictions you placed on your archive have not surpassed its one hundred-year limit, however since I am President, those files were accessible to me. Using my own judgement, I allowed Admiral Nechayev access to those files as well." 

"Then... you know why I..." 

The president interrupted. "I know that several decades ago, a Starfleet officer suffered a great tragedy, and now, after all these years, he's come back home. I can do nothing but welcome you back after a long absence." 

"I... don't know what to say, Mr. President," Apollo said, clearly surprised. "Were I to have returned to Earth, or a starbase, when it happened, there would almost certainly have been at the very least a board of inquiry, if not court-martial proceedings." 

"This may have been true. But you're here now. Besides, shortly before you left _DS9_, I received a report, which explained your case. Now, I don't wish to sound like I'm dismissing you just as you've arrived, but I need to discuss this information with Admiral Nechayev." Apollo tried to judge Jaresh-Inyo's words by his tone, but his voice remained deep, even, and soothing the entire time. 

"Very well, Mr. President. It was an honor meeting you." 

"I think I can share in that honor, Captain." 

"I'll contact you later when we've finished here, Captain," Nechayev said. Apollo nodded and walked out. 

He left the buildings and just began strolling; he half hoped he would see that groundskeeper, but there was no trace of him. 

Before long, he found himself wandering outside Starfleet's grounds. He stopped by all of the places he visited during the times he was here. Any shop or restaurant still open had new management, of course, but he was pleasantly surprised to find that some of his haunts were still there. 

His walk took him to a park along San Francisco Bay. The water was very calm and serene, and the people he saw along the way all smiled and greeted him. Again, as years before, he marveled that the Golden Gate Bridge was still standing, though a placard he had read somewhere in the park stated that it had been restored long ago. His thoughts started to stray when he felt a familiar presence. "That's the second time you've tried to approach me from behind, Commander. Don't you remember what happened before?" Befre giving her a chance to answer, he added, "I want to apologize for what happened back on the station." 

He slowed, and allowed Troi to catch up with him. "It's all right," she replied. "After what you showed me, I suppose I can't really blame you for your actions. Besides, no damage was done." She paused a moment. "I trust you're in better control this time, though. Before, when I tested you mind, there were shields erected, rigid and ill fitting. This time, your control is more subtle, easier on the mind." 

He allowed a small smile onto his face. "You can thank the Vulcans for that, Counselor," he said, "it was their training and disciplines that allow me to clean up the clutter in this thick skull of mine." He paused, taking in the scenery, and allowing her to stroll with him. "I take it the report the president mentioned to me was yours." 

She nodded. "Captain Picard thought that you could use a little assistance. Besides, I have been the only one who has recently had access to your mind." She noticed he slowed a little, and sensed melancholy from Apollo. "That's the second time I sensed that feeling in you. Who was she?" 

He looked sharply at Troi, but then realized she meant no ill will toward him. He sighed. "She... was my science officer aboard the _Valiant_. She was also..." He hesitated. He slowed even more, then stopped when Troi moved in front of him. She silently waited as he took a sharp breath. "She was also my wife." 

She could tell that although he only looked slightly upset on the outside, the pain was much deeper within. "I'm sorry. I..." 

Suddenly she flinched as yet another layer of shields snapped down in his mind. Now, he may as well not even exist as much as she could sense him. Apollo straightened, and the look in his eyes was hard and cold. "It was a long time ago, Counselor. It's about time I left it there." 

As if on cue, Apollo's combadge beeped, and he tapped it. "Racer here." 

The voice on the other end belonged to Nechayev. "_Captain, we finished our discussion. But we won't need you for another couple of days. Would you like us to arrange quarters for you at billeting?_" 

Apollo thought for a moment. "I take it my apartment across the bay wouldn't still be available after all these years," he said quietly to Troi. 

She slowly shook her head. "I would probably find that unlikely." 

He nodded. "Um, that won't be necessary, sir. Am I to assume that I'm under no restriction to remain onplanet?" 

There was a moment of silence before he heard a reply. "_Well... no. But of course, you'd have to remain close enough where you could report fairly promptly. Where did you have in mind?_" 

A slight grin appeared on his face. "I... have a place I haven't been to in a while." He did some calculations in his head. "It's about a day's journey, I believe." 

More silence on the other end. "_Very well, Captain. We'll send someone for you in... four days?_" 

"Thank you, sir. I'll leave the coordinates with the flight controllers before I leave." 

"_Nechayev out_." The connection ended. 

Apollo looked at Troi's perplexed expression. "There is a... a place relatively nearby. I'll be staying there if anyone wishes to speak with me. As I said, I'll leave behind my location before I go. Now, do you have anywhere specific you need to go right now, or would like to walk with me to the spaceport? I'll give you another chance to pick my brain." He offered her his arm. 

Troi smiled. "That would be nice." She took his arm. "Just so long as I don't have to get in your head." 

He chuckled. "No, I think I can help you out fine by just talking." They carried on a more pleasant conversation on the way back to Headquarters. 

~ * ~ 

On a small peaceful planet in Federation territory, the inhabitants of a city were moving about with urgency. Their local defense coordinator had warned of a number of ships moving into their system. As these ships would not respond to standard Federation hails, It could only be assumed that they had less than friendly intentions. The militia was preparing to defend their planet; their chosen pilots boarded ships that would go out into space to meet these newcomers, while the rest of their force manned the planetary defense systems. A group of doctors from the hospital were taking their injured people into underground structures that would withstand a planetary bombardment. 

Almost all of them made it underground. When the last of the groups noticed landing craft approaching the city, they realized two things. One: that the starship that the Federation said they were sending either was either called elsewhere, or the force approaching their world had destroyed it. As Starfleet had faithfully served their people for a hundred years, the leaders suspected the latter was the case. Which led to the second revelation: their defense force was not coming home, for their ships certainly would be no match for the approaching fleet. 

It had turned out only partially true. Five ships, three Cardassian, two Jem'Hadar, had approached. The defending ships had managed to take out one of the Cardassian ships before most of them were destroyed. One ship, badly damaged, got through the enemy's barrage, and collided with one of the Jem'Hadar ships, destroying both in the process. And one Cardassian ship sustained serious damage, but still limped toward the planet. 

The remaining invaders were still enough to send troops down to the planet. The parents and grandparents among the people relived the stories they told their children, as for the first time in almost a hundred years, their cities were looted and pillaged, their people raped and killed. The healthy ones were herded to a carrier to be brought back to the ships as slaves. As the Cardassians over saw the lines of people being brought through, they were heard to remark at how easy the raid was. The only difficulty experienced was that one of the prisoners, surprisingly, a human female, had given some resistance. She had fought with an unexplained ferocity, but in the end, they subdued her and brought her along. It was thought that this person would survive well in the labor camps. 

When there was no one left around. They burned the city to the ground, reboarded their landing crafts, and returned to their ships. 


	8. Sentinel of Past and Future: Chapter 8

Sentinel of Past and Future: Chapter 8

_CHAPTER EIGHT_

The runabout _Mississippi_ entered the atmosphere of the planet Centaurus, in the Alpha Centauri system. Only three light years from Earth, the trip lasted only a couple of days at warp 6. It followed a precise flight pattern laid out by the planet's flight controllers. The ship passed over luscious forestry, broken only by a river emanating from a waterfall further upstream, and a small clearing. The most notable thing in the clearing appeared to be a log cabin, next to a small landing pad. The runabout touched down on the pad. After a moment, the hatch on the portside opened, and Commander Data stepped out. "We are here, Admiral," he said. 

Nechayev stepped out after him. "I can see that, Commander. You know, you didn't have to take me here. There were other pilots just as qualified attached to Starfleet Command." 

He nodded. "I understand that, Admiral. However, the _Enterprise_ is not due to leave Earth for another three days. I believe Commander Riker put it aptly when he said that a ship does not have much need for its second officer while it is in spacedock. And... I was curious." 

She cocked her head. "Oh? About what?" 

"About what a legendary officer does with his time when he is not..." he gave one of his customary pauses as he searched for the correct phrasing, "...being a legend." 

She smirked and shook her head. They started toward the cabin when she stated, "Hmm... It doesn't seem like anyone is home. You're sure this is where he should be." 

"These are the coordinates Centaurus Control gave us when we arrived." He gave a short pause. "If I may say so, you also did not have to make the trip. It would have been more reasonable to send a representative." 

"Yes, well, as you said, I was curious." She turned her attention away from the cabin and toward the scenery surrounding it. 

The cabin sat a short distance from a cliff overlooking the valley they had flown over. She walked up to the edge and gazed out over the land. From her vantagepoint, she could see the waterfall that fed the river. Looking through the trees, she noticed various forms of wildlife. "It's absolutely beautiful here." 

_:Thank you. I'm glad you appreciate it.:_

She jumped at the sound of someone's voice. "What the hell!?" she gasped, shocked. 

Data came up to her. "Is there something wrong, Admiral?" 

She looked incredulously at Data. "Didn't you hear someone speak?" 

He looked at her askance. "I did not hear anyone, Admiral." 

Just then, their eyes caught movement upriver. Nechayev did a double take before she realized that she was seeing someone flying downriver towards them. As the figure got closer, they realized it was Apollo. He pulled up slightly and touched down lightly in front of the two stunned officers. "Greetings. Welcome to Garrovick Valley," Apollo said. As he landed, his clothing morphed from a form-fitting black jumpsuit to a conventional Starfleet uniform. 

"Garrovick Valley..." Data repeated. "Ah. This was owned by Captain James T. Kirk." 

Apollo smiled. "At one point, yes. Now... well, I didn't exactly inherit it; Spock did. But he had left me a standing invitation that I could use the place as often and as long as I wished." 

Nechayev smiled, clearly impressed. "He certainly had a good choice of property, overlooking all this." 

"Oh, this whole valley was Kirk's," Apollo said nonchalantly. 

Nechayev's jaw nearly dropped to the ground. "He owned all _this_?" She brought her arm slowly around to encompass the whole area. 

Apollo grinned. "Yup. Everything you see. From the waterfall all the way down river, to include the whole river, and the land on each side for several hundred meters. He called it Garrovick Valley after the captain he served under aboard the _USS Farragut_. The river was named Farragut River after that very ship." 

"Intriguing," Data said in awe. 

"I used to come here when I needed to think. It was the only place I felt I could find some peace," Apollo added. 

"So you have been in Federation space since the time you've been on inactive duty," Nechayev said. 

The captain nodded. "Oh yes. I wasn't running from anything, Admiral. But I did need to have a place I could pull myself together. I came here as soon as I put myself on inactive service." 

Nechayev took another look around. "It's very peaceful here. I can understand why you would come here to think things over." She let out a sigh. "But you know why we're here." 

"Of course. You're here to haul me back to Earth in chains." 

Data looked confused. "I do not understand. That form of restraint has not been used in..." at a look from Nechayev, he realized he was missing something, and checked his archives. Recognition clicked in. "Ah. You were speaking figuratively. You are not actually expecting to be incarcerated upon our return to Earth." 

Apollo chuckled. "Tell me Data. Do you try this hard to be funny or does it just come natural?" 

Before Data could answer, Nechayev said, "Belay that, Commander. We need to get going." She gestured toward the runabout as they headed for it. 

~ * ~ 

Upon their return to Earth, Data bid his farewell, and Apollo went with Nechayev to Starfleet Command. As they entered her office, she offered him a seat in front of her desk. He sat down, and she took her seat behind the desk. She turned on a display panel on her desk. "Starfleet has decided that during your first contact mission with those aliens, you couldn't be held responsible for the destruction of your ship. And coincidentally, we analyzed the recording of your logs. We came in contact with the aliens you faced. They are solanagen-based beings who live in a portion of subspace. We've had dealings with them on two separate occasions, neither one friendly. I think that also influenced their decision." 

Apollo sat there, looking at Nechayev. "Oh. Gee, I'm really glad I can identify them now. So are you saying I've already had my board of inquiry?" 

"No, I'm saying you don't need one. The board decided it wasn't necessary, for the reason I gave and for the fact that it took place so long ago." 

"O... kay. So, when do I get another ship?" 

She looked a little sheepish. "You don't." 

"Come again? I am still a captain, right?" 

"Actually, no you're not." She called something up on her display and swiveled it around so he could read it. "We found these orders in the archives; orders that could never be carried out because you went inactive." She saved him the trouble of actually reading the orders. "It's a promotion to Admiral. They went into effect shortly after your mission to Seneschal IX. I know you feel that the mission ended in failure, but the decision was based on your success rate prior to that mission. At the next starbase you were to visit, you would have basically received these orders." 

He shook his head. "What kind of Starfleet rewards officers for their failures? Then again, maybe that's why they wanted to make me admiral." 

Nechayev was lost. "I don't understand." 

Apollo stood and started pacing. "Anyone who kept track of who's who in Starfleet back then knew who I was, and they knew that if I was promoted out of the captain's chair, it would've been the biggest mistake they could've made. I... rather hoped that Starfleet was still incapable of making that mistake. Guess I was wrong." 

She shook her head. "I don't think you understand. You've been selected to fill a position. We've... we've recently had a setback a couple of years ago. The head of Starfleet Intelligence tried to take over the Federation in a military coup, using the Dominion as a scapegoat." 

Apollo cackled. "A military coup from Starfleet. How rich. And you're just now filling the position?" 

"Well, we've had someone in position as an interim, but to tell the truth, we haven't had any captains eligible for promotion to fill the slot." 

"Oh, that is a bunch of bull. Admiral, you can't possibly tell me that there weren't any captains you could field-promote." 

She shook her head again. "No, there weren't." She was starting to get a little frustrated at this captain telling her how to run things. 

But he wasn't about to let up. "So suddenly, a relic from the past comes along, and Starfleet thinks 'Here's the answer to our prayers: a promotable officer. So what if he's a bit ancient?'" In a move that caused her to jump, he advanced on the desk and loudly slapped his hands on it. "Well, I hate to tell you something, Admiral, I did not come back to Starfleet so I could be stuffed behind a desk! You want someone for the position, go find someone else!" Before he gave her a chance to respond, he turned smartly on his heel, and stormed out of her office. 

~ * ~ 

_How is it I always wind up in bars,_ thought Apollo. After he had stormed out, he went on autopilot. His legs had taken him to a bar that, remarkably, was still there after all those years. _I can drink this stuff until I drown, but I'll never get drunk. My powers see to that. Hell, I probably can't even drown either._ He sighed deeply, drained his glass, and despite his thoughts, ordered another one. He half expected someone he knew to sit next to him and talk him out of his depression. Someone did take the seat next to him, but the person was unfamiliar, and once she saw Apollo's eyes, she suddenly discovered that a seat at the other end of the bar was much more comfortable. After another few minutes, he poured the contents of that glass down his throat and left the bar. 

Apollo continued walking through San Francisco. A slight fog had settled, making Apollo smiled a little and wondered if it had been programmed into the weather control systems just to make him feel even worse. He approached a street lamp on the corner, where he noticed someone leaning against it. He didn't feel like company, so he changed direction to avoid that spot. 

"My, but there's a foul mood if ever I saw one." 

Apollo stopped and glared at the figure. His voice sounded very familiar. The man lifted his head. "You," Apollo said. "Aren't you that Crue or something." 

Q opened his mouth, but then shut it again. "Nice try. I learn much more quickly than you could possibly imagine." 

"All right, all right. Stop blowing your own horn. What do you want, Q?" 

"My my. Such a hostile tone. And here I bring such good news. You don't have to worry about being promoted to admiral." 

"Uh huh." Apollo was instantly suspicious. "I suppose you're going to tell me you used your supreme influence to make sure I remain a captain." 

Q looked off to the side. "No, not really. They still want to promote you. I'm just saying you shouldn't worry about that." 

"Q, I'm not in the mood for riddles. Now spill your guts or you'll start spitting out teeth." 

"Ewww. Such violent analogies. How barbaric. Anyway, I'm saying you shouldn't worry about it because you're already so much more above that. Don't be held back by such mortal gestures. It's so much beneath you." 

Apollo growled under his breath. "Down boy," Q said. "If you think I'm going to spell it out for you, I don't work that way. You're destined for greatness, but only if you know how to get there." Q probably would have said something else, but at that instant, much too fast for even Q to notice, Apollo's right fist came around, striking Q square in the jaw. He flew backwards, striking the lightpole. He brought up his hand to hold his mouth, and a couple of teeth dropped into his palm. 

Apollo grinned evilly. "I warned you. Now, leave me alone." He turned to walk away. 

A small flash appeared on Q's face, and his mouth and jaw returned to normal. "I can't believe you just hit me." He pulled himself to his full height. "I could take that. But to have you turn your back on me..." Q's voice grew steadily louder. "You shall pay for your insolence!" 

Apollo stopped, the base of his skull tingling. Q continued. "Perhaps if I send you somewhere where you'll truly be alone, you'll appreciate what I'm trying to do for you." He brought his hand up, gesturing. At the same moment, Apollo spun around, thrusting his hand forward towards Q. His forcefield shot up around him. A flash of light started to form around Apollo, but then it quickly disappeared, and reformed around Q. When the flash faded, Q was gone. 

Apollo dropped his shield and looked into the darkness, but could find no sign of Q. He also noticed that the fog mysteriously disappeared. Shrugging, he returned to his walk. 

~ * ~ 

When he returned to Starfleet, Apollo noticed an elderly gentleman walk out of Nechayev's office. At first Apollo couldn't recognize him, but as Apollo got a good look at him, he was stunned. "Dr. McCoy?" he said. 

The old man stopped in the hall and turned around. "Well I'll be damned," he said. "You did come back. How the hell are you?" 

A look of joy spread over Apollo's face. "I'm... I'm fine. My God. I mean, don't take this wrong, but quite frankly, I never expected you to still be alive, Bones." 

"Heh. Funny you should call me that... a time or two, that's how I almost ended up. And it gets harder to get up in the mornings, but I'm still kicking." McCoy jerked his thumb back towards Nechayev's office. "I understand she was trying to make you an admiral." 

"Not by any say I have over it. According to her, the promotion went through years ago." 

McCoy walked up to Apollo and poked him in the chest. "Now, you listen to me and you listen to me closely. No matter what they do, don't let them take you off of a starship. Starfleet can't afford it nowadays, no matter how much they'll deny it. Stick to your guns, Apollo. Don't let'em cave you in." 

He turned to go, and Apollo called after him. "Leonard." McCoy stopped and turned around. Suddenly, Apollo's voice caught in his throat. "It... It's good to see you again, old friend." 

"Ha! Don't try to butter me up. You may look younger than me, but you're always going to be an ancient Vulcan-wanna-be." He chuckled. "Just remember what I said." McCoy then resumed his exit. 

Seeing one of Kirk's officers brought a new determination in him. He spun and headed for Nechayev's office. Upon entering, he didn't wait for either protocols or to let her speak. "Admiral, I've made up my mind. If it means I can't command a starship, then I don't want a promotion, and I don't give a damn what consequences might befall me." 

Nechayev was standing there, arms crossed. "Are you finished?" she simply asked. 

Apollo didn't expect her to just stand there. His fire extinguished, he replied, "Uhhh... yeah." 

"Good, because I would've told you you're wasting your breath. Why do you think Admiral McCoy was here? I'm going to confer with the Admiralty. I'm pretty sure we can't stop your promotion. But... I'm also sure we could find a compromise in there somewhere." She smiled slightly. 

"Oh. Well..." 

"It's getting late, Admiral," she said, smiling at the use of his new title. "Why don't you get some sleep? We'll set up quarters for you this time; that way you don't have to go all the way back to Centaurus." 

Apollo was totally caught off guard. He didn't know what to say. "Uhhh... yeah, right. Well then, I guess I'll be back here tomorrow morning." 

"Good. I'll see you then." As he left her office, Nechayev was talking to the quartermaster to take care of Apollo's sleeping arrangements. 

~ * ~ 

That night, Apollo slept fitfully. His dream had a weird tone to it. He was in space, holding a planet in one hand and a galaxy in another. There was an evil, maniacal look on his face. Then there was a flash, and he was hiding his eyes, flinging his celestial items behind him. He looked up at a light shining before him. Someone stood silhouetted against the light, reaching out to him... pleading with him. 

He sat up quickly, bathed in a cold sweat and breathing heavily. Aside from the light he gave off, his quarters were dark. He lay back down and stared at the ceiling for the rest of the night. 


	9. Sentinel of Past and Future: Chapter 9

_CHAPTER NINE_

Apollo showed up bright and early the next morning. Nechayev was already waiting for him. When she took him to the spaceport, he asked, "Where are we going?" 

"To your first appointment, Admiral," she replied. They entered a shuttle pod where the pilot lifted off. They rose up to Earth orbit, heading for Spacedock. He figured that his office would probably be up here in the Admin section. The gigantic double doors opened enough to allow the tiny shuttle pod to travel through. Inside, Apollo saw ships of all sizes, in various states of repair. For the past few days, he had been catching himself up on 24th century technology... he had a familiarity with it in his travels, but this allowed him to fill any gaps he had in his knowledge. Now he could consider himself as much an expert as if he came from this era. 

He saw the shuttle port that led to the Admin section, then the pod veered sharply to starboard. He looked at Nechayev and raised an eyebrow. She just smiled knowingly. They passed an _Intrepid_-class starship, clearly a casualty of the war. It had been so battle damaged that they were dismantling it so they could salvage whatever they could. Then Apollo saw their true destination, and his jaw dropped. He had seen the _Enterprise_ from the viewport, on _DS9_; he had ridden on the ship from that God-forsaken world he was on, but he was too busy tending to Troi's injuries to actually see the ship. 

He was certainly getting a first-hand look now. The only word that came to Apollo's mind to describe the _Sovereign_-class ship was "beautiful." He was thrilled at how all the lines on the ship seemed to blend into each other, giving an extraordinary impression of speed; The primary and secondary hulls blended seamlessly with each other, with some parts of one overlapping the other. The nacelle supports looked as though they were spun from the hull, and the nacelles themselves were longer and more stylish than any he had ever seen. After a while, Apollo realized his mouth was hanging open, and he closed it. 

Nechayev's voice brought him back to reality. "Welcome to your office, Admiral. The _USS Highlander. NCC-52916_." 

Apollo was flabbergasted. "I... I don't quite know what to say." 

She smiled. "Wait until you see what she can do." 

"I know what she can do. I was aboard the _Enterprise_." 

She waved a finger at him. "That is a common mistake we expect to be made. Don't confuse this with other ships of her class. She's got a few surprises in her; automatic metaphasic shielding with randomizing modulation, greater sensor range, ablative armor - of course, that comes with all our ships now - _and_... This ship has a cloaking device." 

"A cloaking device?!" Apollo said, shocked. "Doesn't that violate the Treaty of Algeron." 

"Well, technically, it would. The Romulans are in a non-aggression pact with the Dominion, but we've gotten intelligence that they secretly don't want them to win to this war. Better an enemy they know than one they don't, I guess. Anyway, this is only the second class of ship to be authorized to use a cloaking device." 

Apollo raised his eyebrow again. "The second class?" 

Nechayev nodded. "The _Defiant_ was the first ship to officially utilize a Romulan cloaking device. The flaw is that the ship is so overpowered that its high-energy signature prevents the cloaking device from being effective at speeds higher than warp 3. The _Highlander_, being a larger ship, will be able to get away with it." 

"But why equip it with a cloaking device at all? With a ship this powerful, I wouldn't think you'd need it." 

She shook her head. "You're forgetting one important factor. Her commander is going to be a flag officer in a high-level position. Now, which would you prefer, a cloaking device, or a fleet of escort ships to serve as protection." 

He frowned. "Neither actually. I prefer to just fight out in the open." 

"We figured that. Believe me, I actually argued for your case. The best I could come up with are those two choices. It's either that or fly a desk." 

Apollo contemplated his options. "Since you put it that way, I'd say the cloaking device is more practical, if for only one reason being that it doesn't tie up other resources like ships and crew. And... I won't always have to use the cloak." 

She looked sharply at him but didn't comment on that. "I'm glad you see it that way. I guess congratulations are in order then, Admiral. The _Highlander_ is yours." 

He smiled. "Thank you. I assure you I'll take care of her." 

She mirrored his smile. "I hope so, or else we'll have to get a new head of Intelligence. Now, who will comprise your crew?" 

"My crew?" 

"Well, since you're an admiral, we figured you could scrape together your own crew. I mean, you'll have a crew, but you'll have to pick your senior staff." 

He stared at his magnificent vessel, deep in contemplation. "I've actually put a wish list together, for if I hadn't been promoted and just simply given a command." 

"Wish no more, then," she said. "I'm sure that if whoever on that list is available, I can get them for you. Or at least steer them in your direction." 

"Thank you, Admiral," Apollo said. When do I get started?" 

"As soon as you're aboard and underway." 

Apollo grinned. "Well then, I'd better find me a staff." 

~ * ~ 

Circe Pa'arvalis had just finished a course in unarmed combat. She watched her students file out, proud of the progress they made today. As the last cadet left, Circe noticed a pair of glowing blue eyes looking at her form the shadows. "Can I help you?" she said. 

Apollo walked out into the open. "I hope you can, Commander," he replied. 

She had heard of this man, read of this legend. "Cap..." she started, then caught herself as she saw the four pips surrounded by a gold rectangle on his collar, "Admiral, sir. I didn't realize an Academy course would interest a member of the brass." 

Apollo chuckled. "You know, Commander, I had instructors who felt the same way." He walked up to the mat she was still standing on and leaned on the back of a chair. "Let me get right to the point. I have just been given command of a starship, and I need a senior staff. After careful consideration, I would like you to be my Tactical Officer." 

A twitch of her antenna was the only reaction he got out of the Andorian. Then she gave him an even more surprising reaction. She laughed. Apollo raised an eyebrow. "I fail to see the humor in my request," he stated in a completely Vulcan manner. 

Circe looked at the admiral intensely. "No disrespect intended, sir, but why me? My tenure isn't through yet, and it's the middle of the academic year. What makes you think I can just abandon my class?" 

Apollo walked around the chair. "Because hidden in your personnel files is a request for starship duty that's about one or two years old. Why it's been ignored all this time is beyond me. Surely, the other instructors can fill in for you until the end of the year." 

Circe shook her head. "Do you think it's that easy, sir? I can't just drop what I'm doing here." 

He frowned. "Can't, or won't. Commander, I've been up and down the list, backwards and forwards. From where I stand, you are simply the best choice I have." 

"That's very flattering, sir. But there are others out there with more experience. Again, why me?" 

She stopped and looked at him, and saw a haunted look draw across his face. Apollo turned his back on her and bowed his head. "Because... because I wanted an Andorian on my bridge again. I feel that I owe it, to an old friend... a long time ago." 

She didn't have to be empathic to sense what he felt; there was an undercurrent of guilt in his tone, a need for redemption. She thought about it for a moment. "Very well," she said, "but under one condition..." 

"What is that?" he asked. 

She removed her tunic, placing it on the back of another chair. The vest that was underneath did little to hide the remarkable shape she was in. "In my opinion, part of my duties would have to entail protecting the crew, correct?" When he nodded, she continued. "If it came down to a battle, I'd like to know if I should fight with my captain... or for him." 

Apollo's eyebrow cocked up again. "Are you questioning my battle prowess, Commander?" 

"Yes I am, sir. Quite frankly, I don't know too many admirals who can hold their own in a fight." 

"I suppose you're right," he replied. He contemplated a bit, then, when he tilted his head up, a small, cold smile underlined his features. "Very well, let's see what you've got." Apollo took off his own tunic, tossed it on a chair, and joined Circe on the training mat. She could instantly tell that this admiral had kept himself fit. 

"Hmmm... I might actually enjoy this," she said impishly. 

They started circling each other like two predators, studying each other for strengths and weaknesses. Apollo watched as a feral gleam appeared in Circe's eyes. Then she pounced. The only thought Apollo had a chance to entertain was, _Damn, but she's fast_. He lunged to the side to avoid her, but she twisted and brought a knee up, slamming into his side and bringing him down. He immediately rolled out of his fall and into a defensive crouch. 

He absently rubbed his side where she had struck him, and nodded. "Okay, that's the last time I get caught off guard." He wore a grin to match her eyes. 

"We'll see," Circe replied, and came at him again. They traded blow for blow; most of them were mutually blocked, though one or two got through from each side. This went on for a few minutes. She went for his throat, and he bent backwards, using her momentum to flip her over him and nearly off the mat. She rolled to her feet at about the same time he kipped to his. He barely had time to turn around before she dove at him again. Again he leapt to the side, and again she twisted to drive her knee into him. But this time he was ready. He dodged her strike, then, grabbing her leg, he brought his fist down on her thigh, giving her a charley horse while at the same time numbing her entire leg. She fell hard to the mat. Breathing heavily, she sat there for a moment, rubbing sensation back into her leg. "So," she said between breaths, "you know... pressure points... That's good." 

Apollo was bending forward, resting his hands on his knees. He was also a little winded. "While I was away, I learned many forms of combat, Commander. I think I can take care of myself." 

She finally managed to stand. "I believe it." Suddenly she lunged again, he went backwards to flip her again, but she sailed over him, landing firmly on the mat and using their doubled momentum to flip him. Apollo went flying past the mat and into the shadows. "Oh, my..." she said, shocked. She didn't realize they were that close to the edge of the mat. "Admiral," she called out into the shadows, "are you all right." 

She didn't notice the slight breeze until she wound up flat on her back, effectively pinned. Apollo was staring into her face with his mind-numbing gaze. "Never assume that I can be incapacitated so easily." 

"Very well," she replied. Then she shifted her weight, and the next thing Apollo knew, he was on his back and she was straddling him. "I accept your offer." She sat there for a moment, listening to both of them breathing heavily. She found the moment irresistible and brought her face closer to his. 

Suddenly, he tilted his head up and blew sharply on her antenna. 

"ACK!" she squealed. She grabbed her head and rolled off of him. "Ooo, you play dirty." She gave him a coy smile. "I like that." 

Apollo simply grabbed both their tunics, then walked up to Circe and offered her a hand up. She accepted. "That was just to show you that I'm not above using any means necessary to get the job done." While he still had hold of her hand, he shook it briefly. "The _Highlander_ leaves for Vulcan in two hours, Commander. Be aboard her, or be left behind." He showed her a different smile this time; one that was warm and caring. 

"Aye, aye, sir," she replied, matching his smile. 

~ * ~ 

_Amazing how some things just never change_, Apollo said. As soon as he thought that, he realized he kept making comparisons with places he'd been before. _I need to stop that._ He was standing on the surface of Vulcan, just outside the Science Academy. It's still as hot and as dry as I remember it. As he walked into the building, though, he noticed it was several degrees cooler. The Vulcans had, logically, built the Academy in such a way where as it used the existing air currents to provide adequate circulation throughout the entire facility. 

He even recognized one or two of his old instructors. Granted, they were into their second century now, but despite the changes he went through since then, they still recognized him as well, and they silently bowed their heads in mutual respect. 

The person he was searching for came walking out of a classroom. She saw him and raised an eyebrow. With a quick but subtle glance to his collar, she said, "Admiral Racer. This is an unexpected privilege." 

"Greetings, Saavik," he replied, holding his hand up in the Vulcan salute, which she mirrored. "May we speak for a moment?" 

She nodded, and together they moved into her office. She offered Apollo a glass of fruit juice. It was one of the things he greatly missed when he was here before; in fact, he made sure that, as soon as he was aboard the _Highlander_, he programmed that drink into the replicators. 

When he made his request, Saavik looked solemnly at her desk, contemplating her options. "I am honored that you would think of me as a choice for your senior officers. But I have not been in Starfleet for some time." 

Apollo looked puzzled. "I noticed. Your file says you're on inactive duty status, though. I assumed that meant you would wish to return." 

"I was merely keeping an option open. Something... how do humans say it... something to fall back on." 

He smiled slightly. "Next to Spock, you're the best science officer I know. And I wanted the best crew I could find." 

"You honor me again, with your comparison." Even though she was a Vulcan, and her emotions were restrained, Apollo had learned to catch the telltale sign when he was about to be disappointed. "I am truly sorry, but I must decline your offer. As curious and as tempting as the offer is, I have... settled down." 

"Oh. This is understandable." He stood. "Thank you for taking the time from your schedule to speak with me." 

"It was no trouble. Classes had ended for the day, and I was returning home. Are you certain you wouldn't wish to stay for a meal before you leave?" 

"I'm sorry. I have to get going. I need to finish getting a crew together." As she stood up, he once again held out his hand in the Vulcan salute. "Peace and long life, Saavik." 

"Live long and prosper, Admiral." She watched as he spun and walked toward the exit. 

~ * ~ 

"Sir, I'm picking up a distress signal. It appears to be coming from a Federation shuttlecraft." 

Apollo moved as though to spin his chair to face his science officer, a lieutenant who was filling in until he could find a senior officer to fill the position. But he stopped short, when he found the chair didn't move. _Worse thing they could have done is take away that feature_, he thought. He generally had fun spinning the captain's chair around to face whoever spoke up. So, to avoid the embarrassment of being caught in such a mistake, he simply spun out of the chair to face the lieutenant. "Have you scanned the area?" 

"Yes, sir. I'm picking up energy residue. It seems that the shuttle has been or is being attacked." 

Apollo fumed. "Commander, any idea who they're up against?" 

Circe looked at the readouts. "According to the signatures, weapons fire is consistent with Jem'Hadar fighters." 

"Oh. Really." He sat back down in his chair. "Well then, I guess this is as good a chance as any to see what this baby can do." 

"Should we contact the shuttle and tell them we're on our way?" Circe asked. 

The lieutenant spoke up. "It wouldn't matter. The shuttle's com systems are out. In fact, the way all its major systems keep winking on and off line, it would seem that whoever is in that shuttle has their hands full just keeping the thing operational." 

"Hmmm..." Apollo pondered. He also got that slight tingle at the base of his skull. "Helm, set intercept course." He grinned impishly. "We're going to have some fun." 

~ * ~ 

The shuttle's occupant was cursing up a storm. As soon as he'd get one system back up, the Jem'Hadar would attack again, knocking three more systems offline. "Why don't ye bloody pick on someone yer own size!" He said a few more choice words under his breath, and dove under the helm console to try and get maneuverability back. 

Montgomery Scott was not having a good day. He was moving along, heading through Federation space toward a planet... Risa. Yes, that was the name of it. He had heard some good things about that place... when suddenly these two ships appeared out of nowhere and started firing on him. He had barely managed to get his shields up in time, but not before they knocked out his weapons. Now the shuttle he had borrowed from Capt. Picard a few years ago was a drift in space, the target of the Jem'Hadar's own version of Kick the Can. 

Another blast, sparks flew everywhere, and the shuttle went dark. "Och. Well, that's it fer sure." He plopped down in his chair, waiting for the end. "T'was a good life... but ye can only cheat death so long." He watched as the Jem'Hadar ship in front of him whirled around, lined up for the killing blow... 

And was promptly swatted aside by a couple of quantum torpedoes. 

Scotty jumped out of his seat and strained to look out the edge of the viewport to see what ship had come. There it was. He could see the very last vestiges of a cloaking device deactivating as the ship glided into view. Scotty got a good look at the ventral side of the ship, enough to read the registry, _USS Highlander, NCC-52916_, before it sped past the shuttle. He watched in abject glee as the ship pounded the Jem'Hadar fighter again; this time, its phasers cut through the hull, and the Jem'Hadar ship exploded in a dazzling burst of light. The other Jem'Hadar ship, clearly seeing it was outmatched, tried to flee, but the _Highlander_ would have no part of that. Sending a couple quantum torpedoes up its tailpipe, the Jem'Hadar ship was crippled. The starship blasted the enemy ship's weapon systems with its phasers, to ensure it was truly disabled. Then it swung gracefully around and faced his shuttle. "Aha! That's showin' them bloody bullies!" he exclaimed. His elation was intensified as he felt a transporter beam take him off his doomed shuttle. 

~ * ~ 

"Disengage cloaking device. Lock quantum torpedoes onto the nearest ship." 

"Done, sir. Admiral, the shuttle shows to have only one occupant. All his systems are down for good. That shuttle isn't worth much more than scrap," Lieutenant Schaffer, the science officer, said. 

"Admiral, the Jem'Hadar ship is lining up for the killing blow," Circe added. 

"Take it out, Commander," Apollo calmly said. 

He watched in silent satisfaction as two torpedoes streaked out and found their target. The Jem'Hadar's shields flared briefly, then cut completely out. "Direct hit," Circe said. "Showing major damage to their propulsion and weapons." 

Apollo felt it wasn't enough. "Teach them how we treat bullies, Commander." 

The bridge crew watched as their phasers shot out and cut through the Jem'Hadar's hull. A moment later, a fireball erupted where the ship used to be. 

Schaffer looked up. "Sir, the other Jem'Hadar ship is turning tail." 

"Like hell they will," he said under his breath. "Disable them." 

Two more torpedoes sped from the _Highlander_ to strike the fighter's propulsion systems. Circe smiled. "That ship isn't going anywhere, sir." 

He nodded. "Good. Now make sure they don't try to stab us in the back while we perform our rescue operation." As Circe operated the phasers to take out the Jem'Hadar's weapons, he told her, "Lock on to the shuttle occupant and beam him directly to Sickbay. That's where I'll be." With that, Apollo stood and headed for the turbolift. 

Depositing him on the proper deck, Apollo headed for Sickbay. As he entered, he said, "Doctor, how is our..." His words trailed off as he saw who it was he rescued. 

Scotty, upon hearing the familiar voice, turned around. The shock registered clear on his face. "Apollo?" he said, his voice mirroring his utter disbelief. 

"Scotty," Apollo said, almost a whisper. Then a grin spread across his face. "Scotty!!" Apollo closed the gap and wrapped Scotty in a bear hug. When he was done, he held the engineer at arm's length. "God dammit, man, but you're a sight for sore eyes." 

"Aye. I thought I was a goner fer sure there," Scotty said. "You still manage to come to the rescue in the nick of time. Thank ye, sir." 

"That you're safe is thanks enough, my friend. When the doctor decides you're fit, I'd like to sit and talk. I'd especially like to find out how the you wound up in this century." At Scotty's nod, Apollo turned and left sickbay. 

~ * ~ 

Scotty was released early that evening. Both he and Apollo were sitting in the lounge, and he had just told the admiral the circumstances that led up to his arrival in the 24th century. Apollo let off a laugh that temporarily disrupted the peace of the lounge. "Unbelievable. Only you could have thought of doing something like that." 

"Aye. I only wish it worked completely. A good man was lost," Scotty said forlornly. 

"It could have been worse, Scotty. You could have been lost, too." 

"Is that really a good thing, Admiral?" He looked into the glass of scotch - real scotch, from Apollo's personal stock - "There's no place for me in this century. Only wandering around in a shuttlecraft. Maybe it would have been better if Franklin had made it instead." 

Apollo's eyes widened in shock. "Scotty, I've never known you to talk that way. How could you say something like that?" 

"Look around, Admiral. Everythin' is so new. New technologies, new ships, new crew. No place for a doddering old fool like meself." 

Apollo glared at Scotty. "You know, I might just take offense to that." 

Suddenly, Scotty realized to whom he was talking. "Och. I'm sorry, Admiral. But what can I expect to do?" 

Apollo looked down at the table. "You know, it's funny you should mention that. You see, when the _Highlander_ picked up your distress signal, we were on our way to pick up an officer for my senior staff; it's still not complete. I'm sure you've noticed that none of the medical personnel that you saw in Sickbay were over Lieutenant. I need a CMO." He fidgeted with his glass. "I, uh... I also need a Chief Engineer." 

Scotty's head jerked up. "Ye canna be serious! I don't know a tenth about this ship as I did the original _Enterprise_!" 

Apollo snorted. "Funny. I seem to recall a certain engineer learning enough about a certain top-of-the-line replacement for the _Enterprise_ that he was able to sabotage it." 

"Aye, but I was workin' on the _Excelsior_ at the time. This is different. The last ship I was on was the _Enterprise-D_. An' this ship is totally different from that!" 

Apollo looked at Scotty, and tossed up his hands in defeat. "I had to ask. I guess I'll have to search elsewhere for an engineer." He stood up. "I'll have quarters arranged for you. We'll drop you off at the nearest starbase." He left the lounge without looking back, and Scotty slipped even further into depression. _Fine friend I turned out to be. The man rescues me, and I can't even repay him_. He sighed, downed his scotch, and stared out the viewport at the stars slipping by at warp speed. 

An ensign showed up a little later to show Scotty to his quarters. She put down the padd she was carrying and showed Scotty all the amenities. He told her he was grateful to her, and despite his low mood, he was still able to flash her a smile of gratitude. She wished him a good night and left his quarters. Just as she left, he noticed that she had left her padd on his desk. He picked it up and headed toward the door. "Uh, lass..." He glanced at the padd and stopped. 

On the padd were what appeared to be some specs for the _Highlander_. As he worked the controls on the padd, he realized that this was a technical manual for the starship. Without taking his eyes off the padd, he found the chair in front of his desk, and began to read. 

As the ensign left Scotty's quarters, she only walked a short way before stopping. Turning around and seeing that Scotty wasn't following her, she tapped her combadge. "Ensign Silvers to Admiral Racer." 

"_Go ahead_," came the reply. 

Grinning, she said, "Sir, I think he took the bait, just as you said he would." 

She could almost see him smiling on the other end. "_Well done, Ensign. Well done indeed. Carry on. Racer out_." 

She closed the connection with another tap to the badge and continued walking down the corridor. 

~ * ~ 

About four hours later, Apollo was up on the bridge when he heard the turbolift doors open and close. "Admiral, may I have a word with you?" He heard Scotty say. 

He turned to face Scotty and gestured toward his Ready Room. When they were both in he offered Scotty a seat and sat behind his desk. "What's on your mind, Scotty?" 

"That was a downright sneaky trick, havin' that pretty lass of an ensign 'accidentally' forget that technical manual in my quarters." 

"Why Scotty... I have no idea what you're talking about." It didn't take long for him to tell that the Scotsman wasn't buying it. "Okay okay... sorry about that. I just figured that, knowing your propensity for reading tech manuals, that if you managed to get your hands on the one for this ship..." He sighed. "Ah well, I had to try." He stood. 

"Aye. It is a fine ship, from the looks of it." Scotty looked up at him, but he had an impish grin on his face. "No need to apologize, Admiral. It worked. It'd be an honor to work with ye, if ye'll have me." 

Apollo's face brightened. He held out his hand. Scotty stood and clasped it in a firm handshake. "I have a little clout. I'm sure I could arrange something." 

Scotty's attitude did a complete 180; he looked as though someone just gave him a 500-year-old bottle of scotch. "I appreciate it, Admiral." He turned to go. 

"And Scotty," Apollo called after him. His new engineer stopped at the door and turned to face him. "Welcome aboard. It'll be just like old times." 

"Aye, sir," Scotty said jovially, and walked out of the ready room. Apollo turned and gazed out the viewport by his desk, smiling to himself. 


	10. Sentinel of Past and Future: Chapter 10

_CHAPTER TEN_

A Cardassian warship orbited a medium-sized, rather nondescript planetoid in what used to be a planetary system before its sun went nova, breaking up the inner planets into very large asteroid field. The gas giant closest to the star ignited under the nova conditions and became a star in its own right. Although its two neighboring gas giants never themselves combusted into stars to form a tertiary system, the gravity from the new sun pulled tendrils of matter from these planets to feed the star. At a certain distance from the star, these tendrils ignited, looking as though the star had a fiery moustache. 

There was one planet, once covered entirely of ice. However, due to the second sun, that ice had melted away, and the water formed had collected in natural pockets to form oceans. The planet now resided well within the standards for Class-M planets. But it was the asteroid belt close to the planet that saw most of the activity. 

A pair of Jem'Hadar ships would enter the system on patrol, then lurk off again. The Cardassian ship was there to provide the manpower necessary to run the mine down inside the planetoid. The surface didn't have enough gravity to hold an atmosphere, however, there was an oxygen-nitrogen pocket trapped deep underground. The Cardassians had calculated that the envelope would last just long enough to extricate the materials needed to produce the ketrecel-white that the Jem'Hadar depended on so much. 

As in any mine run by Cardassians, this one's labor was furnished solely by slaves and prisoners. People from a wide variety of races toiled in the mine, in various states of health. Basically, anyone who was capable of work, did. Those who weren't capable, died. 

One human was no exception. Though she hadn't spoken since they found her, and she showed little indication that she was fully cognizant of the events around her, those soldiers who got a good look at her would say that they could see eyes filled with hatred and cunning. Those eyes darted back and forth, taking in every detail. Some of the soldiers merely dismissed her as mad; those that were down on the planet where she was captured would claim otherwise. But they didn't care what mental state she was in, as long as they got work out of her. 

She wasn't that attractive, for a human, they would say. However, one of them made the mistake of trying to take advantage of her. As far as they knew, he was still up in the ship's medical bay, writhing in agony. The doctors said they never could fully restore the bodily function in his nether regions. After that incident, they pretty much left her alone, though the other slaves and prisoners suffered from the soldiers' frustrations. 

She didn't know why she knew what she did. Rather, she wished she could regain the rest of her memory. Every night, her sleep was fitful, as tantalizing glimpses of memories would flash through her dreams, peeks at earlier, happier times, though she couldn't exactly place it. She wouldn't be able to remain asleep; each time it ended with a huge explosion, and she would wake up, drenched in sweat. Half the time, she would catch a face; it was the same face each time. Though it always looked the same way, flashing a smile, sometimes it seemed, warm, caring, while other times it mocked and taunted her. When the guards came to take her to her assigned work area, she vowed that if she found the owner of this smile, she'd either kiss him or wipe that smile clean off his face. 

~ * ~ 

Apollo shook the hand of his new CMO. "Thanks again, and welcome aboard, Dr. Kellara," he said. She smiled warmly at him, then turned and clopped into the next room. Apollo turned and left sickbay. Circe, his ersatz first officer, followed him. He was still trying to get over the fact that he managed to acquire a centaur for a medical officer. "She's something you don't see every day." 

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh? And I suppose 350-year-old admirals with glowing blue eyes are commonplace where you come from?" 

He chuckled. "Well... they should be." This elicited a smile from Circe. "All right, Commander. You've got me there. It just seems that this ship is quickly becoming staffed with legends and representations of myths." 

"Oh, please explain." 

"Well, there's Scotty, obviously. Kellara looks as though she came straight from Greek mythology. You're named after a Norse goddess..." 

"And you're named after the Greek god of music. Your point?" 

Apollo stopped and looked at Circe. "I was named after the Earth's first manned moon missions... but now that I think about it, you're right. Heck, though, all we need now is Emperor Kahless himself to request a posting, and we've pretty much clinched it." 

She chuckled. The _Highlander_ had managed to pick up an Edoan for their Con position, and he just happened to be descended from an Edoan, Arex, that not only served aboard the _Valiant_ with Apollo, but before that, Arex had also served aboard the _Enterprise_ with Jim Kirk. Ops was currently filled by Circe; she ran both Ops and Tactical from the Ops station on the bridge. It was decided that in the case of an involved combat, that would require intense concentration from both stations, a junior officer would be pulled to fill Tactical; or, if no junior officer was available, Apollo himself would man Tactical. That suited Apollo just fine; ever since being put in the position of commanding a starship, he didn't like the notion that the captain would just sit there and bark orders; he needed to actually do something. So far, though, they haven't had to test their plans. 

But at least save for Ops, his crew was staffed. Now they could get down to business. Apollo and Circe entered the bridge. Upon seeing Apollo, the bridge crew nodded their greetings. The Edoan at Ops, Gex, raised his middle hand and waved. As Apollo acknowledged everyone, he said, "Mr. Pa'arvalis, contact Starfleet. Let them know we're as ready for action as we're going to be, and we'll be awaiting orders." 

"Aye, sir," Circe said as she slid into place at Ops and sent out the communication. Apollo strolled over to his chair and slowly sat down. The two positions on either side of him remained powered down, as no one on any shift manned them at this time. He kept busy by scanning through status reports, noting with a small grin that Scotty had already proven how fast a learner he could be, by increasing engine efficiency to 108%, with a footnote that after a few more adjustments, he could get it up to 110%. 

_Engineering, Tactical, Environmental, Medical, they're all rarin' to go_, Apollo thought. _Now all we need is a mission_. Barring nothing else to do, Apollo decided that now would be a good time for a log entry. He tapped a control on his chair arm to start recording. 

"Cap..." he shook his head, realizing that his normal log opening wouldn't be appropriate in this case. 

"_Ship's log, stardate 51837.4. Admiral Racer recording:_

"_The _USS Highlander _has nearly a full crew now; only the Ops and first officer positions remain unfilled. Commander Pa'arvalis had volunteered to double as Ops officer until we can find someone. We're currently awaiting orders from Starfleet so we can get underway_." 

He paused, not exactly sure what else to say. "_It's been a while since I was in command of a starship. I certainly didn't expect to hold the position with a flag rank. Well, no sense looking a gift horse in the mouth_." 

While he was trying to decide if he should add anything more, Circe turned to face him. "Admiral, we're getting a communication from Starfleet." 

He nodded. "On screen." 

As they just sat there, all he saw as evidence of a viewscreen was a large oval frame, through which he could see the bulkhead beyond it. Now an image of Admiral Nechayev winked into existence within the frame. "Greetings, Admiral Racer," she said. 

"He nodded again. "Admiral. The _Highlander_ is ready to go and awaiting orders." 

She smirked. "Very well, Racer, though let me give you some advice. As an admiral, and head of Starfleet Intelligence, you will be empowered to select your own missions based on Intelligence reports you receive, unless you receive a higher priority from Command." 

Apollo stuck his tongue in his cheek and put on a small, sheepish smile. "Ah, my apologies. I'm ah, somewhat new to this admiral business. Never had the ability to make my own orders before." 

She smiled in understanding. "That's quite all right, Apollo. You'll probably also be surprised to know, then, that the starships _Phoenix_, _Scarlett_, and _Orion_ are also under your command. As you were waiting for me to give you orders, Captains Son, Belanger, and Paradox have been awaiting your orders." 

_Paradox? Interesting name_, Apollo thought. He blushed. "Gee, thanks, Alynna. You've made me feel so much better." 

Nechayev's grin grew. "I think the orders I'm about to give you will make it somewhat easy for you. We need you, ironically, to gather intelligence. Since the Jem'Hadar have been cut off from their Gamma Quadrant supplies, they have to be getting their ketrecel white from somewhere here in the Alpha Quadrant. Not only do we need you to find out where these supply bases are, we also want you to use any means necessary to neutralize these bases." 

Apollo mulled the orders through his head. "I think I can handle that. And you're right, that does make it easy for me. Thank you. _Highlander_ out." When her image disappeared from the screen, Apollo told Circe, "Commander, please contact the _Phoenix_, _Scarlett_, and _Orion_. Relay our orders to them. Let them know they have but to report when they find something. How they deal with it will be entirely up to them." 

"Aye, sir," Circe replied. 

"Mr. Gex. Set course for the Cardassian border, warp four." He paused, and caught an image that sprang up in his mind, when he saw Picard give orders on the _Enterprise_. Unable to resist, he gave Gex the same two-fingered gesture that Picard uses. "Engage," he said. 

~ * ~ 

They didn't get far before they saw some action. "Admiral," snapped Circe. "Two Jem'Hadar warships just entered sensor range!" 

Apollo muttered, "Here we go." Then he spoke up. "Activate cloaking device. Let's see how close we can sneak up to them." 

Circe nodded. The bridge lighting subdued to a low blue hue, into which Apollo's own vision blended. He felt a slight uneasiness at the base of his spine, but it quickly subsided. He fought an urge to shiver; as he looked around, he concluded that he was the only one who had the sensation, so he kept it to himself. 

The _Highlander_ glided towards the two Jem'Hadar ships. As they watched, Circe half-whispered, "Sir, what are we going to do? Take them out, or see what they're up to?" 

"Commander?" he whispered in reply. 

"Yes sir?" 

Apollo then raised his voice to its normal volume. "Why are we whispering?" 

Circe practically jumped out of her seat. She looked at him, a deep blue blush forming on her face. He smiled at her. "We'll follow them for a bit, Commander, to see what they're up to. Who knows? Maybe we got lucky, and they're due to stop at a supply base." 

Circe simply answered by nodding, and setting the controls for a parallel course above and behind the two ships. They stayed that course for an indeterminate time. At one time, they passed a Cardassian scout's position. After being assured that a Cardassian ship's sensors aren't as sophisticated as those aboard a Jem'Hadar ship, they passed a mere eight hundred kilometers in front of the Cardassian's bow with nary an indication that they were detected. Apollo was left to shake his head and wonder how the heck the enemy was able to so easily infiltrate Federation space. 

"The war has taken quite a toll on Starfleet as far as ships are concerned. We are spread a bit thin in this sector." It took Gex's reply for Apollo to realize that he had vocalized his thoughts. Apollo absently acknowledged Gex with a nod, and the Con officer turned back to his controls. 

~ * ~ 

She found it painfully easy to use the mining tools the Cardassians gave them to cut through the bonds that held her. Though she had lost a bit of weight in the past few weeks, she still had her strength. Now she was prowling through the mine, holding her drill as if it were a gun of some sort, without even realizing how she was supposed to hold a gun. She shook her head again, as though it might help jog her memory, help her to remember who she was. But it was no use; everything before her abduction was an annoying foggy haze. She didn't much like that the first memory she could recall was that of pain, either, like she was being turned inside out. Or rather, like she was already inside out, and something was returning her to normal. 

She stopped suddenly, and ducked into a niche in one of the walls. Two guards, a Cardassian and a Jem'Hadar walked by. She didn't think she had ever seen one of them before this, and she wished silently that she didn't have to see anything like them again after this. 

At first, she had thought of bringing as many prisoners along as she could. But they were too cowed with fear to listen to her. They were afraid to stay, but they were even more frightened of what might happen to them if they were caught trying to escape. So ultimately, she decided she would be better off if she just got out on her own, and brought back help later on. The problem was, even if she did escape the mine, she had no idea where she go from there. She couldn't fly a shuttle, or even if she could, she didn't remember how. She thought she knew someone who was a good pilot, better than any she had seen. Except she couldn't remember who he was, or where. 

Lost in her thoughts again, she didn't notice the Cardassian round the bend until she almost ran into him. He reached for her, and opened his mouth to sound an alarm. That's when she shot him in the face with the drill. With his brain splattered all over the mine floor, effectively rendering him mute, she ran from the scene. Too late she realized she had forgotten that they traveled in pairs. The guard's partner soon found his remains, and sounded the alarm. Now her senses were heightened by adrenaline. The fear of getting caught that was felt by the others was now fully felt by her. She crouched down, taking slow but distantly paced steps, attempting to stay in the shadows. She soon found out, though, that Jem'Hadar didn't need much light to see, and quickly pointed her out. Suddenly she was running like hell, avoiding energy blasts from what seemed to be every direction. If she could only find some place to hide. 

Ironically, it was one of them who saved her. She rounded a corner, only to have her face collided with the butt of a disruptor rifle, as she staggered back, a shot that was meant for her screamed past her from behind and struck her attacker, knocking him lifeless against the wall. Grabbing his weapon, she started to run again, but this time she was slower, more sluggish. She would turn and shoot, then while they would duck for cover, she would run further. 

A near miss hit the rocky wall and debris splintered out, catching her from behind. She grunted in pain and fell to her knees. As she tried to get up, a blow to the back of her head sent her plummeting into darkness. 

~ * ~ 

At first, Apollo wondered why he couldn't see through the darkness. His vision in its current state was capable of seeing much more than normal vision would allow. After a while, he would realize that he couldn't see anything through the darkness because he seemed to be in some vast chamber. Neither walls nor ceiling was visible, and while he could feel that he was standing on something firm, the floor was pretty much invisible to him as well. He tried calling out, but there was no echo, so could gauge distance by that. The darkness swallowed up the sound, engulfed the light. He turned this way and that, frantic to find a direction to go, but it all looked the same, he was alone. 

Just as he was about to give up hope, Apollo heard a voice from far away. "Admiral," it said to him. 

That baffled him a little. _Admiral? I don't know any admiral. Do they mean me? But I'm a captain...._

"Admiral?" 

The voice, combined with a gentle shake to his shoulder, brought him awake. He straightened suddenly in his chair, causing Circe to step back a pace. "Huh? Wha-" 

"Sir, we've stopped. The ships have met up with another pair. We think it's some kind of changing of the guard," Circe explained. 

Apollo shook his head slightly to clear it of cobwebs, and looked at the screen. Sure enough, he saw that the pair of ships they were following had joined up with two more. They just hung there in space ahead of them. "Uh, status report." 

Circe had by now taken up her position at Ops again. "We're at full stop and we're still cloaked. We've staged about 4700 kilometers away from them. So far, they haven't given us any sign that they've detected us, sir." Her console chirped, and she took a look. "Another vessel just coming into range." She looked at the screen, and then to Apollo. "Sir, it's a Cardassian freighter." 

Apollo had now risen from his chair, and walked over to the side of Circe's station. "Hmmm... Curiouser and curiouser." He squinted at the screen, obviously considering their options. Aw, hell. We have to take risks sometime. Scan the freighter. I want to see their cargo." 

Circe thumbed a control, cycling her board into Tactical mode. "Scanning," she said. After a moment, she added, "they don't seem to have any cargo, sir. But they did carry something; I'm picking up numerous DNA traces in their cargo bay." 

Apollo raised an eyebrow. "They carried people? Fascinating. Mr. Gex, prepare to..." 

"Uh, oh." 

Apollo's head whipped back around. "Uh, oh? What uh, oh?" 

"They've picked up our scans. They're attempting to triangulate our position now." 

"Evasive." 

Circe shook her head. "No good, they've found us. Their shields and weapons are powering up." 

"Oh well. I hated sneaking around, anyway," Apollo said as he headed up to the Tactical station. "Go to Red Alert and transfer control of Tactical to me." 

Circe could have pointed out that there were junior officers available to take the Tactical station, but she merely said, "Aye, sir." 

As the Jem'Hadar ships pivoted around into attack position, the _Highlander_ wavered into existence, shrugging of its cloak in favor of its more effective shields. As soon as the ship was visible, the fighters accelerated to meet their foe. 

Apollo started punching in commands. "Gex, get us moving. I don't want to just sit here and let them pound on us." 

"Gotcha, sir," Gex said smiling, as he sent his hands fluttering over his controls. There was a sudden jar as the ship shifted so suddenly that the inertial dampeners couldn't completely compensate. The maneuver also caused the Jem'Hadar to miss their target as they shot the area of space where the _Highlander_ used to be. 

Apollo was a bit more accurate. Phasers and photon torpedoes lanced out and struck two of the ships. One ship suffered a glancing blow, but the other was struck directly amidships. There was little damage, but it knocked the ship off course, and the other three were so close together that the damaged ship collided with one of them. It exploded with the tremendous force of a warp core breach, while the ship it hit suffered major damage. It limped off, out of the fight, but Apollo sent a quantum torpedo on its trail, to finish the job. 

The _Highlander_ rocked as it received hits from the other two Jem'Hadar. Apollo barked out orders as his fingers flew across the Tactical station, punching in intricate maneuvers. Phasers pulsed and torpedoes slammed into shields with a one-two punch. At one point, Jem'Hadar got off a torpedo that headed straight for the underside of _Highlander's_ primary hull. Seeing this, and reacting fast, Apollo sent all the shield strength into that area, bringing that shield up to 300%. "Gex, forward dorsal and aft ventral thrusters. Full short burst, now!" 

The ship swung down on its x-axis. The torpedo connected with the strengthened shield, but instead of impacting, it was batted back toward the Jem'Hadar ship that fired it. Its own torpedo tore off its port nacelle. 

"Good job, Gex," Apollo said, giving the Edoan a thumbs-up while re-equalizing the shield strengths. Gex responded in kind. 

They were giving chase to the remaining Jem'Hadar ship, when suddenly, the ship was pounded again. "That wasn't from our prey up ahead," Apollo snapped, "that was from behind!" 

Circe checked her readouts. "Sir, it came from the Cardassian freighter." 

Apollo chuckled. "You have got to be kidding me." 

She shook her head. "No, sir. The freighter is definitely pursuing us." 

The admiral chuckled. "He he. We'll see about that." He touched a couple of controls. 

Two torpedoes streaked out from the _Highlander's_ aft launcher. One curved down and came up under the freighter, giving it an uppercut and hitting at just the right spot where it overloaded the freighter's shield generators. The second torpedo arced around, cut through the weakened shields, and punched into the freighter's propulsion system, effectively crippling it. 

Circe looked at her readings of the freighter, then looked back at Apollo with what was obviously a look of newfound respect. Apollo shrugged. "I've had to deal with pursuits before. I was actually surprised it only took two torpedoes. This ship has some powerful stuff." He smiled. 

Apollo had intended to let the last ship go back as a warning, but apparently, the Jem'Hadar had other plans. "Admiral, the last ship has taken up a collision course." 

"They wouldn't," Apollo said incredulously. 

"Uh, sir, they've taken out a _Galaxy_-class starship with such a move," Gex said. 

"_Galaxy_-class?" Apollo replied. He did a quick recall about that ship, which he read up on while he was on the _Enterprise_. He let out a low whistle. "Well, we, can't have them give us a repeat performance, now can we?" Apollo targeted the ship and hit them with full phasers. He maintained the lock and contact with a sustained phaser blast until they finally overwhelmed the Jem'Hadar's shields; the ship blew up as much from the feedback to their shields as from the phaser blast. 

The _Highlander_ swung around in a graceful arc until it faced the freighter. Then he ordered scans on it as he returned control of Tactical to Circe and went to his chair; he figured any trouble from here on out could be handled from the Ops station. 

"The ship is disabled, sir. They're not going anywhere, and they won't be shooting at us," Circe said. 

"Cool," Apollo said. "Tell them to prepare to be boarded, and that any resistance caused me to be very unhappy. I'll take Dr. Kellara, some security, and whomever she may wish to bring, and go over there. If there aren't wounded, she'll still be able to analyze the DNA traces in the cargo hold. Commander, you have the conn." Apollo headed into the turbolift and went below. 


	11. Sentinel of Past and Future: Chapter 11

_CHAPTER ELEVEN_

_Ship's log, Stardate 51842.7:_

_After running surveillance on two Jem'Hadar warships, they and two others engaged us when we scanned a Cardassian freighter with which the Jem'Hadar rendezvoused. Commendations for all aboard; they performed..._

Apollo allowed himself a little smirk as he realized the word he was going to use.

...admirably_. I have often been exposed to situations where crews had just been put together, and served aboard a new ship. I have never ceased to be impressed by the way these crews have come through with flying colors, nor do I ever hope to. The _Highlander_ suffered only light damage, despite the reputation of the Jem'Hadar weapons; must have been because of the new shields Admiral Nechayev spoke of. I am now leading an away team to the crippled Cardassian ship to see if we can discover anything about their mission in this sector._

Six columns of light shimmered into existence aboard the Cardassian ship, then coalesced into Apollo, Kellara, two medical technicians and two security officers. Apollo and Kellara both had tricorders out, while security fanned out with their phaser compression rifles. Kellara noticed that Apollo didn't have a phaser on him, yet there was an odd cylinder hanging from his equipment belt where a phaser holster would be. At the time, she didn't comment on it. "Admiral," she said, "the best place to start would be the cargo bay." 

He nodded. "I agree, though we should check toward the bridge, too." He looked at his readings and frowned. "There's no life signs anywhere forward of us." 

Kellara wore a similar look. "The readings we received aboard the ship confirm what I'm getting; organic residue and DNA traces in the cargo bay." 

"Very well. We'll head that way. Tompkins, take the point. Williamson, cover our backs." As both security officers confirmed his orders and took up their positions, they slowly made their way aft. In some areas, it was completely dark, as power conduits had ruptured and there was nothing running the lights. In one particular spot further aft, where there was power, the hull had been breached, which would have exposed the interior of the ship to space if automatic forcefields hadn't kicked in. As Apollo moved by the gaping hole, he saw the _Highlander_ framed by the opening. He took a second to admire her lines, then moved on. 

Once they were in the cargo bay, the three medical people covered the entire area with their tricorders, taking preliminary scans. Once that was done, they moved to random areas of the bay, taking samples. Kellara's hooves echoed in the bay as she clopped around. 

The moment they had entered the bay, Apollo sensed that something wasn't right. Now he was getting that familiar tingling. He remembered as a boy reading a comic book about a superhero who had a similar ability. Since that memory became clear, he muttered a line he always read the hero using. 

"Spider-sense tingling. Stand ready, guys." 

Suddenly, from what seemed to be out of nowhere, four Jem'Hadar soldiers came into view and drew their swords. Tompkins was caught off guard, and the Jem'Hadar closest to him drove his blade deep into Tompkins chest. He fell and didn't rise again. 

Williamson was almost caught napping, too. But he was far enough away from the soldiers where he could defend himself as soon as he spotted them. He pushed back his opponent with his foot and then shot both that soldier and one that killed Tompkins. Kellara reared back and attempted to kick one of them with her front hooves. 

The fourth soldier went straight for Apollo. Just as he reached him, a fifth appeared. "No," he shouted, "the leader is mine!" But the fourth soldier wasn't listening, the lust for battle coursing through him. Apollo took a defensive stance and beckoned his opponent forward. The soldier obliged, weapon raised to strike. 

Kellara had dispatched her foe, and was watching Apollo. She was about to yell a warning to him, but what she saw caused her voice to catch. The cylinder was suddenly in Apollo's hand; she was sure she didn't see him reach for it, so much as it _leapt_ into his grip. Then he ignited the sword, and a bright sapphire beam extended out. Apollo caught the Jem'Hadar's sword with his, cutting through it with a shower of sparks and no other effort at all. The Jem'Hadar looked at his blade for a moment, then charged again toward the admiral. Apollo brought his sword up to block, and the soldier reached to grab it. 

The Jem'Hadar quickly realized he made a mistake when his hand closed around the beam and he burned his fingers off. The soldier howled, but was cut short when Apollo backhanded him, sending him flying into a nearby bulkhead. He then turned his blazing eyes on who seemed to be the Jem'Hadar leader, who was now clearly having second thoughts about claiming Apollo as his opponent. 

Kellara walked up carefully behind Apollo, stopping a couple of paces away. "Admiral, what..." 

She was interrupted by the Jem'Hadar, who beat her to the question. "What manner of weapon is that?" 

"This?" Apollo said, gesturing with the weapon. "This is a little something I picked up while searching through the ruins of an ancient civilization. It's called a lightsaber. Quite effective, actually. I prefer it to a phaser. Now," he advanced on the soldier, who would have stood his ground, except he saw what had happened to the other soldier's hand, and he glanced at his unconscious comrade. He backed up until he was against the bulkhead next to the door. He could hear the hum of the blade as Apollo brought it very close to him. "Are you going to tell me what was in this freighter and where it was coming from, or do I have to start lopping off body parts?" 

The soldier defiantly stared into the lights of Apollo's eyes. "I am not afraid to die." 

"Admiral, you wouldn't!" Kellara choked. 

Apollo seemed to consider her plea. "You're right, I wouldn't." Just as the Jem'Hadar relaxed, Apollo flicked his saber in front of the soldier in a precise move that cut through the tube that supplied the soldier with ketrecel white. The look of shock on the soldier's face was plain. "Oops. How careless of me," the admiral said sarcastically. 

The Jem'Hadar fell to his knees, watching as what may as well have been his lifeblood flowed out of the severed tube and onto the floor. 

Kellara's people, true to their training, and recognizing no threat to them anymore, finished their tasks. "Doctor," a small lieutenant named Fischer called out, "we're finished collecting samples. Found something odd, too." 

"Oh?" Kellara met her people on their way towards her. 

"Yes. We found human DNA." 

"This ship could have had Starfleet prisoners, right?" 

"Well, yes, ma'am, but it's rare to find a ship with only one human on board." 

Kellara's interest was definitely piqued. "Only one person? Are you sure? May I see it?" 

At that moment, Apollo's sense triggered again, though it seemed... different, somehow; it wasn't warning him of danger, as he was in danger from the moment he entered the cargo bay, but it _did_ seem like it was trying to tell him... _something_. He turned to briefly ask Kellara a question, but didn't get the chance. The Jem'Hadar, already starting to suffer the effects of the loss of his life-sustaining drug, roared savagely and pounced. He slammed into Apollo. The lightsaber was knocked loose from Apollo's hand, deactivating it, and it skittered across the floor, coming to a rest against the wall. 

Apollo was far from defenseless, though. He immediately backpedaled, adding momentum to the Jem'Hadar's advance. He then dropped to the floor, pushing up and back with his feet, lifting his opponent off the ground and using that momentum to send the Jem'Hadar soaring through the air to crash into some of the storage bins in the cargo bay. The Jem'Hadar quickly got to his feet, but it wasn't fast enough. In a blur, Apollo was on him, and this time there was no mistaking the fact that the lightsaber sailed from its resting spot, through the air, to be snagged by the admiral. Apollo brought the saber to bear, crashed the Jem'Hadar into the far wall, and sunk the reactivated weapon into his gut. The end of the saber exited out the back of the soldier, and plunged into the wall. Apollo brought his knee up to hold the Jem'Hadar in place. 

Putting his face a scant inch from the Jem'Hadar's, and raking his illuminated gaze over the dying man's features, he hissed, "Where did this freighter come from? Where did it pick up a lone human?" 

The Jem'Hadar simply looked at Apollo, and managed to rasp, "I shall die, with the small victory of denying you that information." 

Apollo bored into the Jem'Hadar with his glare, almost as if willing the soldier to live long enough to give him the information he needed. But his opponent exhaled his last breath in a ragged wheeze. The admiral's eyes narrowed to slits and his mouth stretched in a grim line. Then, in a move that shocked the other members of his away team, he removed his knee, allowing the Jem'Hadar to slide down the bulkhead. The lightsaber, remaining where it was, cleaved the corpse from abdomen to collarbone, exiting out the left shoulder. "So be it," Apollo said quietly, and deactivated his saber with a hiss. Clipping his weapon to his belt, he turned and headed toward the cargo bay's exit. 

Dr. Kellara was shifting her weight from one side to the other, nervously making scuffling noises with her hooves. Finally, she was able to rip her gaze from the half-bisected body and look at Apollo. "Sir, where are you going, now?" 

Apollo stopped before walking through the open doorway, and turned to face her. He pointed at his opponent. "He wasn't keeping anything from us. Just making it more difficult for us to get the information we want. The computer will have all the necessary details we need." 

"Assuming, sir, that they haven't wiped that information from the computer," Williamson said. 

Apollo gazed at the security guard for a moment, then the corners of his mouth upturned. "Very astute, Lieutenant. Let's just hope we find what we're looking for. You're with me. Doctor, I'm not sure we'll need your skills here anymore, but if you'd like, you may leave one of your people behind, or stay behind yourself. Either way, have two people bring Tompkins' body back to the _Highlander_. Let's go." Apollo led Williamson through the corridor while they prepared Tompkins for his return to the ship. 

Going through the corridor, it was quiet as they passed through the unpowered section. Behind him, Apollo heard the telltale whine of a transporter beam; then he heard the even more distinctive footfalls that told him that Kellara had opted to stay behind. He continued toward the front of the ship without looking back. 

By the time they reached the Bridge, the doctor had caught up with them. She swept the room with her medical tricorder, to get a second set of readings to confirm the first set they took when they arrived aboard. At his questioning look she shook her head solemnly. He slowly nodded once and headed in. 

The Bridge was a mess. The freighter apparently wasn't meant to take as much punishment as Apollo thought it was. Consoles had blown wide open. Chairs had literally been ripped from the floor. At one point, their inertial dampening field must have failed, because one hapless Cardassian caught unawares was nothing more than chunky salsa decorating a wall. The three of them combed the bridge. After a short while, it was clear that they wouldn't find anything functional there, so they left the bridge and headed aft again. After consulting with the ship's layout on Apollo's tricorder, they found the engineering section. It wasn't in any better condition than the bridge; in fact, one look at the warp core told Apollo that they'd better step up their efforts. 

"Admiral! Over here!" Williamson called out from the other side of Engineering. He really didn't have to call out; the room wasn't that big, and the warp core and computer stations took up most of the room. Apollo made his way under fallen conduits and over bodies to reach Williamson. Kellara had wisely stayed out of Engineering; the clutter could too easily cause her to trip up. 

When Apollo reached Williamson's position, he saw a still-working console. "Good work, Lieutenant," he said, resting a hand on his shoulder in praise. He experimentally tapped a few controls to test the function of the panel. Satisfied with his results, he set to work searching for the information he needed. 

After about half an hour, Apollo muttered, "Eureka." The screen came to life with the ship's log and navigation records. As he downloaded everything into his tricorder, he heard an ominous groan come from somewhere within Engineering. 

"Um, Admiral, will it take too much longer?" Kellara asked. The tension in her voice stated the need for urgency. 

"Almost done," Apollo replied. "Why don't you and Williamson head back now. I shouldn't be too far behind you." 

Williamson nodded and went to leave. As he did, another groan was heard. The conduit Apollo had just previously walked under gave way and fell the rest of the way down. Unfortunately, Williamson was under it at the time. "Admiral!!" Kellara yelled. 

Apollo's head whipped around to see what happened. He looked at the tricorder a moment, then set it down on top of the console to complete its download. Turning and leaping over debris, he quickly reached Williamson. "Lieutenant! Are you all right?" 

"I... I think so, sir. I'm trapped here, though," he groaned. Apollo attempted to move the conduit, but it began to buckle under its own weight. 

Apollo growled under his breath. "Doctor, I could use your help here." 

She hesitated. "But sir, I don't think I can..." 

"_Move it, Doctor!!_ Or we're all dead!" His eyes glared intensely at her. 

His tone seemed to galvanize her into action. She made her way carefully into Engineering and came up on the other side of the conduit. "Sir, what do you want me to do?" 

Without releasing his grip, he gestured with his head. "Grab that other end of conduit so it doesn't fall on us while I'm taking him out." 

They both grunted and strained audibly, and together they moved the conduit. Unfortunately this further destabilized the ceiling, and more debris rained down. As if to make matters worse, Apollo's combadge chirped. He slapped it. "Racer here!" he shouted to be heard over the loud crashes in the background. 

"_Admiral,_" came Circe's voice over the badge, "_we're reading a buildup to a warp core breach. You need to get out of there NOW!_" 

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. _As if that wasn't what we were _trying_ to do_. "Look, Commander, hold your horses. We're getting out as fast as we can. We just sustained another injured party. Rest assured we _will_ be out of here in time. Just have the transporters standing by. Racer out." As the connection closed, he looked at Kellara. "No offense, Doctor, about that statement." 

She smiled. "None taken." 

They managed to get Williamson to his feet, at which point he immediately cried out in pain. Glancing at Williamson, to Kellara, and back to Williamson, he made a split decision. "Again, my pardons, Doctor." He unceremoniously picked up the security guard and slapped him onto Kellara's back. She grunted more in surprise than in protest, but she held firm. "Get him out of here!" He snapped, though he resisted the urge to slap her on the rear to get her going. 

Kellara made it out the door, with Apollo right beside her, when she turned and said, "Admiral, the tricorder." 

"We don't have time, Doc..." 

"Use whatever you used to bring your weapon to your hand." 

He looked at her, then to where the tricorder rested on the console. He started to go back in, but more ceiling collapsing in convinced him not to. The ship was also very obviously shaking itself apart. Using his enhanced vision, he focused on his instrument, which told him the download was complete. Giving it no further thought, Apollo snapped his arm out toward the tricorder. It jumped off the console, and was deflected by a piece of falling debris. Though it remained in midair, Apollo winced at the impact, wondering if the tricorder was damaged in any way. Then he concentrated again, and the tricorder sped through the room to slap firmly into his hand. He then used his other hand to slap his badge again. The explosions coming from Engineering and other parts of the ship caused him to really raise his voice. "Highlander!!!_ Three to beam up... NOW!!!_" They vanished in shimmering pillars of light. 

Reappearing in the transporter room, and keeping his combadge frequency open, he said, "Bridge, get us _away_ from this ship _immediately_!" They disappeared through the doors, Kellara to sickbay with her patient, Apollo to the bridge. 

The _Highlander_ pointed itself away from the freighter, as explosions dotted its surface, and shot into warp as the Cardassian ship was engulfed in a fireball. Apollo entered the bridge, heading for his chair, while Circe vacated it. "I'm assuming that since we're still here, we made it safely from the ship before it exploded." 

"You have a knack for stating the obvious, Admiral," Circe said, smiling. "We finished any repairs that needed making while you were over there, sir," she added. 

"Excellent," Apollo said, sitting down. He tapped away at the tricorder he still held, first to ensure that it was undamaged from its wayward flight through Engineering, then to pull up their first destination. "Mr. Gex. Come around to a heading of... 312 mark 26. Proceed at warp factor five." 

"Aye sir," Gex said, making the course adjustments. 

Apollo then handed the tricorder to Circe. "I need the information in here analyzed so we can recreate the freighter's journey and see if we can find out if any of its destinations were a supply base or anything. We also found evidence that they had transported prisoners... I'd like to know if the ship made any stops to inhabited planets to pick up any. I'll call a meeting of department heads in two hours to go over your findings." 

"Yes sir," Circe said. She took the tricorder and headed to a science station in the rear of the bridge. Apollo rose and headed for the turbolift. "I'll be in sickbay." He entered, and the doors closed behind him. 

~ * ~ 

She awoke in pain... pain in her head, from where she had been struck unconscious, and pain all over her body, as though someone had driven spikes through her wrists and hung her like a slab of curing meat. As it turned out, her assessment wasn't too far off. As she regained her full senses, she examined herself. Her wrists had been shackled to the top of a large, metal, circular frame. She was left hanging there for who knows how long... certainly since she was rendered insensate. She also noticed she was naked. She briefly considered being offended, but then figured if she was hanging there as long as she thought she was, then it wouldn't matter how she felt now, anyway. So she filed it in the back of her mind, close to where all the haziness was. 

Through coincidence, she adopted an attitude of smoldering indifference just as a Cardassian walked through the door. He went to his desk without looking up at her, which was just as well, and started doing paperwork. She was just about able to block out the outside world from her mind when she suddenly realized that the Cardassian was speaking to her. At first, she considered not giving him the satisfaction of responding. But then she realized that upon looking at him she remembered that she _had_, in fact, awakened at some point, but that she was barely conscious when he pulled a device from his belt and pressed a button, sending waves of pain coursing through her. She finally couldn't take any more, and passed out. So now, while she wasn't going to go all out to acknowledge his existence, she did keep the same expression, and just moved her eyes in his direction to indicate that she heard him say _something_. 

"I see you're finally awake, Prisoner 90210," the Cardassian said in greeting. Her response was to shift her gaze back to the front. "Not very talkative, I take it. Don't tell me you're holding what we've done to you against you." He took on a pitiful look, and feigned a hurt tone of voice. "Well, we wouldn't want you to do that, now would we? Of course, that would imply that we don't hold the deaths of several Cardassian and Jem'Hadar soldiers against you." He moved around his desk and sat down. "I am Gul La'Brel. I hope you find that position comfortable... you'll be spending an awful lot of time in it." 

"Go to hell," she mumbled. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that," he said. However, he took the device from his belt and used it, indicating that he had, indeed, heard her. Unbelievable torrents of pain cascaded through her system. He cut it off just before she could pass out again. "Interesting little device. This control, along with the implant at the base of your skull, allows me to administer as much pain as I choose." 

"Why don't you just kill me and get it over with," she spat at him. 

"Oh, no no no. I can't do that. You see, if I killed you, you would become a martyr, and I would have a revolt on my hands." 

"Oh, well, we can't have that now, can we?" She earned another jolt of pain for her sarcasm. 

"What I plan on doing is showing your pathetic looking body over the com-net so that the rest of the workers can see what is in store for them if they resist as you did," La'Brel said. 

She glared at him in her semi-conscious state. "You can just bet I won't cooperate with you. You may have wired my mind to feel pain, but you'll never control me." 

La'Brel was obviously quite upset by that remark, as he zapped her again with the device. 

"What are you _doing_!?" came a voice from her periphery. 

"I'm teaching her a lesson," La'Brel replied. 

The person who spoke came into view. He looked like a normal humanoid, except he had deep black hair, and his ears were ribbed, and stretched along the entire side of his head. He was flanked by two Jem'Hadar. "You'll cease your games at once! She is to be taken down, cleaned up, and returned to the mines!" 

"You're actually going to let this... this _rebel_ back into the mine? After what she's done?" 

"She will be watched more closely." The man came closer, and she could instantly tell from his ice-blue eyes that this man could not be trusted; he was as much a snake on the inside as these Cardassians themselves were on the outside. "And rest assured, human, you will be more severely punished if you try something like that again." He returned to La'Brel. "But we need every available worker in the mines to gather and process the ore for ketrecel white. Starfleet has hit another transport convoy, and our supply has suffered severely from it. We need to restore what we lost. If this keeps up, we'll even have our own men working in the mines." 

When Jem'Hadar-flanked person spoke of Starfleet, fragments of images threatened to clear in her mind, though they stayed tantalizingly vague. Especially one of a man... when the humanoid looked at her with his eyes, she though she saw a different pair, though she couldn't be sure. 

La'Brel snorted. "That's _preposterous_. Cardassians? Working alongside the slaves?" 

The humanoid glared at Cardassian. "You will do as the Dominion commands." 

La'Brel looked as though he had just swallowed a frog, though for all she knew, that's what they ate. "Of course. We... _live_... to serve the Dominion." 

"You would do well to remember that. I want her back in the mines, working, under heavy guard, within an hour." He stopped and looked at her gaunt frame. "Make that two hours. You've obviously been underfeeding the workers. _Again_. See that she's fed as well as clothed." He and the guards left. 

"Vortas," La'Brel mumbled under his breath. "It's almost as if they think _they're_ the real power in the Dominion." He called for someone to come collect her. "You're really lucky, you know that? If we didn't need the help, then yes, eventually, you would have wound up dead. As it is, you'll probably die in the mines. But at least," the next part he said with sarcasm, as two Cardassians showed up to take her away, "you'll die serving the Dominion." 

In spite of the contempt the Cardassians had for the Vorta, they remained true to his orders. She was cleaned up and fed... she hadn't even realized how hungry she was until she had noticed that the huge plate of food they had put in front of her was empty within ten minutes. She then had just enough time to inadvertently let out a loud unladylike burp before she was led into the mines to work. At the end of the day, when they returned her to her cell, one of the women of the world from which they were taken came to her and held her close. 

"You poor girl," she said, rocking the woman back and forth. After several minutes of sitting that way, just before their scheduled sleep period, she asked the woman, "You still remember nothing of who you are; where you came from?" When she shook her head, the matronly woman said, "Well, I remember a story my grandmother told me. Of how these people from Starfleet had arrived to help our people. They even helped my mother, who... well, she was horribly mistreated. My grandmother had a powerful wisdom, and she used it to decide to let Starfleet help them." She held the young woman back and looked into her eyes. "I'll tell you what. You need a name, and I can think of none better than my grandmother's. From now on, I shall call you Brekkan. How does that sound?" 

She thought for a moment, then smiled a little and said, "Okay. Brekkan it is." 

The other woman smiled. "And I am Lilta. Now, Brekkan, we should sleep, before the guards get suspicious." 

~ * ~ 

The doors to sickbay opened, and Apollo walked through. He immediately spotted Kellara tending to Williamson at one of the biobeds. "How is your patient, Doctor?" 

She looked at Apollo and smiled. "He'll live, though he won't be running a marathon for about a day or so." 

Williamson shook his head. "It was my own dumb luck, sir. I zigged when I should have zagged." 

Apollo waved him off. "Nonsense, Lieutenant. We were just lucky to have kept our losses to a minimum, and that you were the only one injured. That whole room was falling apart around us." He patted Williamson on the shoulder for emphasis. Seeing the young security officer's spirits brighten, he walked toward the door. Kellara followed him. 

"Admiral. When we have a free moment, would you mind telling me how you were able to pull off the stunts you did back on the freighter, with the tricorder and the... the lightsaber? I'd be real curious to know," she said. 

He smiled at her. "Trying to find out what makes me tick, eh, Doctor? Well, perhaps on an off-shift one day, you can corner me, and I'll tell you." 

He walked out of Sickbay, intending to head to Engineering. It registered to him that the holodeck doors opened ahead of him, but he didn't think anything of it. But as soon as he reached the doors, a pair of hands grabbed him and pulled him in. "Urk..." was all he could get out. 

He expected to hit the floor. However, as he passed the holodeck's arch, he sped through the air, unencumbered by gravity. Instincts took over, and he came hovering to a halt shortly before he hit the far wall. Once he got his bearings, he looked toward the doors, which transformed into part of the wall. Circe was standing there dressed in a form-fitting leotard that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. She walked to a spot just inside the arch. "You owe me a rematch," she said. 

He floated there, trying to decide how to take the tone of her voice, the slight smile on her face, the equally slight quivering of her antennae. A part of him thought that this was senseless, that it was the last thing he needed right now. Another part of him, the part that won out, thought that this distraction was exactly what he needed. He grinned mischievously. "Far be it for me to stand in the way of training." 

Her grin spread. "Well, then. I've seen you at times. You're able to change your clothes into something else, so why don't you get ready?" 

In the blink of an eye, his uniform morphed into his black-and-red costume. He held his arms up and waved his hands toward him. "Okay. Bring it on." 

She licked her lips, crouched, and pushed off, sending herself shooting through the room towards him. He started to drift out of her reach, but she somehow maneuvered in a way where she could grab his leg. "Oh, no. No flying. You can only use your zero-g training." Using his momentum, she swung him around and sent him toward the far wall. 

"But... that _is_ how I train," he said in his defense. However, he allowed himself to contact the wall. Judging the proper trajectory, he shoved off at a different angle. 

She was ready for him, though. On her next bounce, she started spinning. When he got close enough, she lashed out with her foot, catching him across the back of his neck. He landed face first on the floor. "Ha!" she barked. 

He wouldn't allow her a second strike. As she came down for a follow-up blow, Apollo gripped the floor with his hands and shot himself across it. Reaching a wall, he rolled and bounced back toward Circe. Using his momentum, he stretched his arms out and caught her in the midsection. He heard a satisfying, "Oof!" from her as he knocked the wind out of her. But she must have recovered quickly, because she gripped him by the shoulders and spun him around. 

When the holodeck was transformed into the zero-g exercise room, mats appeared on all the walls, the floor, and the ceiling to cushion any impact. Also, there were recessed handles situated three feet from each other all around the room. When Circe brought Apollo slamming into the wall, she grabbed two handles and hooked her feet in two more, effectively pinning him. 

"What are..." Apollo began to say, but couldn't get any more out. She was too busy kissing him. He blushed. "Uh, Circe, are you sure..." She cut him off again with another kiss. 

"Just be quiet and enjoy the moment," she said. She began kissing him hungrily. Apollo, for his part, didn't resist. His hands were all over her back, her arms, her hair, while she pressed her body tightly to his. "Have you ever done this in zero-g before?" she purred. She released her footholds on the wall to wrap her legs around his back. They started floating away from the wall, held only by her grip on the handles; and then she let go of those, too, and they started spinning slowly through the room in an intimate embrace. She whispered another question in his ear. "If the uniform can change, can it disappear completely?" 

He was about to answer her, one way or another, when they heard the familiar twill of the ship's com system. "_Bridge to Admiral Racer_." 

"Ignore it," Circe half-whispered, half-growled into his ear before nibbling on the lobe. 

Apollo was lost, overwhelmed by the flood of pheromones she was producing. She was practically writhing all over him, massaging him, caressing him. The page echoed through the holodeck again. Finally, with some effort, he managed to find his voice. "Racer here." 

"_Admiral, we've picked up a message from the _Scarlett_. Captain Belanger believes she found a lead to a nearby Dominion outpost._" There was a moment's silence, then, "_Uh, sir, are you all right?"_

He realized that when he responded, he was breathing quite heavily. Her own breathing didn't help any. "Just... an intense workout. I'll be on my way... shortly. Racer out." 

She smiled when she thought he meant he would be there when they finished what they were doing here, but he told her, "I have to go." 

"Awww, don't tell me you're one of those officers who would abandon a girl for duty." During their passionate interlude, she was slowly undressing herself, in hopes that he would follow suit. 

"Commander, don't make me use force." 

"Oooo, I _love_ forceful men..." She was about to continue, when suddenly she saw a bright flash of blue light, and she was knocked backwards to the wall. Though the zero-g environment was on, she was pinned there. Mixed emotions fought their way across Circe's face as she stared at Apollo. His aura was in full light now, and his costume changed back into a normal duty uniform. His face could hardly be seen behind the light his eyes were giving off. 

"I... _said_... knock it off, Commander." Despite her struggling, he held her pinned to the wall as he hovered in the middle of the room. "Computer, end program." The walls disappeared, to be replaced by the familiar yellow-on-black grid. Gravity slowly restored itself to the room, but Apollo remained in mid-air, and Circe remained against the wall. He closed his eyes to regain himself, and Circe could then see his face. It was flushed, and he did _not_ look amused. He lowered himself to the ground, and contemplated her. When he was finally satisfied that she had regained her composure, he asked, "I know about the Andorian mating drive. Quite powerful, but don't let it get out of hand. Are you under control, now?" She nodded, and he noticed that she had bitten her lip... a tiny drop of bluish blood rested near the corner of her mouth. He released his hold on her, and she slumped down to the floor. He looked at her for a moment longer, before tapping his com badge. "Racer to bridge. I'm on my way." He spun on his heel, and as he walked out, he glanced behind him to see Circe hang her head just before the doors closed in front of him. 

~ * ~ 

As soon as the turbolift deposited Apollo onto the bridge, he said, "On screen." 

The cheerful features of Captain Belanger appeared on the screen. "_Greetings, Admiral_". She gave him a nod of respect. 

"Captain," he said in return. "I understand you have something for me." 

"_We do, sir. We had passed through a system where a number of warp signatures appeared to converge upon a central point. The _Orion_ and the _Phoenix_ have gone to positions on the other side of the sector. It is our hope that we can triangulate our positions and see if there's a central point for these signatures_." 

Apollo's eyebrow shot up in a very Vulcan manner. "Very good work, Captain. The _Highlander_ will be there shortly." 

Belanger smiled. "_Thank you, sir. We'll be waiting for you_. Scarlett _out_." She winked out, and the image cut off. 

Apollo immediately turned to Gex. "Set coordinates for the _Scarlett's_ position, and get us there at our best possible speed." We waited until he was sure Gex was finished before adding, "Engage." 


	12. Sentinel of Past and Future: Chapter 12

_CHAPTER TWELVE_

Once the _Highlander_ rendezvoused with the _Scarlett_, the two ships reestablished contact. "_Hello again, Admiral. Glad you could join us_," Captain Belanger said, smiling. 

Apollo gave her a slight grin. "Thank you, Captain. Any progress so far?" 

Belanger nodded. "_Phoenix_ and _Orion_ have already started sending us information. As soon as we analyze it, we'll be able to get a clearer picture of the area." 

"Excellent... good work, Athena. With any luck, you've stumbled onto paydirt instead of a red herring. The _Highlander_ will remain on station until..." Apollo's words trailed off. He stared blankly at the screen. 

Belanger looked puzzled. "Admiral? Is something wrong?" 

Apollo instantly snapped out of his daze. "Ah, we'll stay here until further notice. _Highlander_ out." When the _Scarlett's_ captain disappeared from the screen, he rose and headed toward the turbolift, absently turning the bridge over to Circe. 

"Admiral, is something wrong?" Circe said, repeating Belanger's question. 

He stopped just as he triggered the doors to open. Glancing behind him he replied, soft and low, "Nothing, Commander. Just..." he paused, trying to clear his head, "...just whispers of the past." 

~ * ~ 

Brekkan thought she did well. She managed to organize the group of prisoners in her cell into something resembling an intelligence unit. She figured that since she couldn't fight their captors openly, she would resist them covertly. So for the past few weeks, she had her little group keep their ears wide open for any bit of conversation between the guards that they might be able to use later. For the most part, they listened to the Cardassians; they bragged too much, and their Jem'Hadar counterparts weren't very talkative. The only times she heard them speak, they were gathered around someone... _A Vorta_, she remembered, and the Vorta had them give some sort of pledge before handing each of them some sort of small vial filled with a white liquid – _the same white liquid that courses through that tube running into their necks, I'll bet_. The pledge seemed rather important to the Jem'Hadar, but the Vorta acted extremely bored with the whole thing, as though it were all a joke. It might not be important, but at this point, she accepted any tiny bit she could get. 

One of her "team members" even, at one point, managed to procure for her a tricorder by swiping it and making the person using it think he left it on one of the freighters that stopped here periodically to pick up cargo. She now used this tricorder to compile all the information her group had collected. They even had a hiding place for it in a vent shaft for when the Cardassians staged inspections of the cells. Given the Cardassians' propensity for control, these inspections were surprisingly few, but to make up for that fact, they were naturally unannounced. 

Then one day, things took a turn for the worse. A couple of guards showed up for one of their inspections, but instead of leaving as soon as they finished it, they pointed to Lilta and said, "You. Gul LaBrel wants to speak with you." 

Brekkan immediately placed herself between the guards and the old woman. "What does he want with her?" she said threateningly. 

"That is not for you to know, human. Stand aside." 

Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Make me." 

She expected them to try to slap her aside. However, apparently learning from their past mistakes, they simply stepped back, pulled their weapons out, and stunned her. As she collapsed, one of the other cellmates pulled her aside as they reached for Lilta and took her away. 

Brekkan came to some time later. One of the others in the cell told her that Lilta still had not returned. Brekkan was very worried now, dreaming up all sorts of situations Lilta could be in, but she was hoping that all her worries were silly; Lilta would be returned, safe and sound. That Vorta wouldn't allow any of them to be harmed, because they were all needed. She began to reassure herself more strongly of that fact, and sat back in her corner to try to relax. 

She realized she had dozed off when she heard the forcefield to their cell shut off. Brekkan was immediately at her feet as two Cardassians practically threw Lilta through the threshold. She had been beaten savagely, bleeding from several cuts on her face and head. Brekkan was especially worried as she noticed blood was also oozing from the woman's ears. 

Lilta was incoherent as they cared for her, cleaning her up and making her as comfortable as possible. Brekkan didn't once leave Lilta's side. Then, late at night, she caught Lilta trying to gesture to her. "Shhh, Lilta please. You must rest." 

Lilta coughed as she tried to get her words out. "My child, my time has come when I shall get all the rest I need. One thing you should keep in mind is to not give up the fight. Never let them break you, for if they break you, then you've lost." She trembled spasmodically as another coughing fit hit her. When she stopped, Brekkan could see fresh blood on Lilta's lips. Lilta continued, her voice considerably weaker. "And... there is one more thing... I need... to say..." 

Tears were streaming down Brekkan's face. "Please, Lilta. You've said enough. Just rest, so you can heal." 

"If you are... who I think you are... you won't be here long. When you are... are rescued, please remember me..." Lilta tried to cough, but she was too weak, and her breath caught in her throat. 

"Oh Lilta. I can never forget you... you've been so kind and generous to me, though I never really knew why." 

"It's... because... I know who you are... I know..." Lilta's breath stopped rattling in her chest, which gently fell for the last time. Her eyes rolled back in her head and closed. 

"Lilta?" Brekkan whispered. "Lil... Lilta?" She began trembling with sobs. "_NO!!_" Brekkan let it all out. Her bawling could be heard throughout her cellblock as she cried over the body of the woman who cared for her so much. The rest of the prisoners sat there, heads bowed in silent grief... some of them wept with Brekkan. 

And where her crying could be heard, the guards smiled cruelly. 

The next morning, the guards came to take Lilta's body away and to lead the rest of them to work. Though coercion kept her from being lethargic, Brekkan felt as though her heart had been ripped out of her. She lost complete track of time; days ran into each other, all the while she ran on autopilot. She stopped eating, hardly slept, and never cared. The only thing that kept her going was the intelligence network they were running, and the thought that one day these monsters would pay. 

Through the network, she learned that the Cardassians had explained away Lilta's death to a petty squabble among the prisoners, citing that if they weren't fighting the guards, they were perfectly content with fighting each other. If LaBrel only knew how far from the truth he was. But she would show him, one of these days. She silently vowed she would make him pay. 

~ * ~ 

Over the next few days, a false sense of normalcy fell over the crew of the _Highlander_. That is to say, they were playing a waiting game, and aside from a constant state of Red Alert, Apollo allowed the crew to return to their routines. This assured him that the posts would be manned by fresh bodies, yet at the same time, they would be alert and ready at a moment's notice should they suddenly find themselves flung into battle. Apollo was only a trifle worried... the battles this crew had been through so far under his command had been nothing more than skirmishes. He had yet to see what hard combat would get out of them. But he was confident they would pull through. 

Currently, Apollo was in his quarters, getting some rest. It was quite necessary – Kellara would have quite literally kicked him off his bridge... leaving hoofprints in his skull, no doubt... unless he consented to going to bed. So he figured he'd catch a quick catnap before waking up again and hiding somewhere in the bowels of the ship until it was safe to return to the bridge without being molested by his Chief Medical Officer. 

A familiar trill woke him from his sleep. _Never fails_, he thought. He managed to clear his voice enough to mumble out, "Racer here." 

"_Sorry to disturb your sleep, Admiral,_" the voice of his Tactical Officer said over the com system, "_but we've just gotten word from Captain Belanger_." 

"Well, spit it out," Apollo replied, still not completely awake, but getting there. 

"_Rrright,_" Circe said, hesitating. Apollo could just see her pondering his statement. _I keep forgetting to watch what I say around Andorians. They always take things so damned literally._ She continued, snapping him out of his thoughts. "_She said the _Scarlett_ encountered a small Jem'Hadar force in her area. They dispatched the ships, but not before they got a distress signal through. She said to expect reinforcements._" 

"Understood. Have the crew return to battle-ready status. I'm on my way up. Racer out." He cut the link, and as he swung his legs off the bed, he glanced at the time. _I slept _six hours_? I must've really been tired._ He shrugged off the revelation, and got dressed. He smiled and greeted passing crewmembers in the corridor. He approached the turbolift waiting to take him to the bridge. However, as soon as he entered the car, he suddenly found himself in open space, with no ship to be seen anywhere. Now, Apollo had been in space before, and in fact, by reflex, his aura flashed into existence around him to protect him from the harsh environment. Still, it caught him a bit by surprise. He drifted there, and it didn't take long for him to put two and two together. The eyes squeezed to slits and his face turned grim. "Q," he said vehemently. 

As if on cue, Q appeared smiling before him in a flash of light. "Honestly, Admiral, I have no idea why you keep insisting on wasting energy in such a display. Still, I have to like the color." 

"In case you didn't notice, Q, I was kinda busy. I have a ship to run, you know." 

Q dismissed his statement with a casual wave. "My word, you have been among them for far too long. You need to stop thinking like a human." 

Apollo let out an exasperated sigh. He knew it was useless to argue with Q. "Could you please just get to the point of why you dragged me out here and let me get back to business." 

Q acted hurt. "Oh, I try to shine some light into his misleading existence, and he wounds me." He shrugged off his theatrics. "The reason I brought you out here, _mon admirale_, is because I feel you've been left ignorant for far too long, and you need to learn who you truly are. Observe." 

Suddenly, all around Apollo, the starscape changed. Constellations took completely different shapes and positions around him and a glowing, shimmering blue field of energy appeared before him. "The galactic barrier," he whispered in awe. 

"Ah, so you remember this place. Good. Keep watching." 

At that moment, a _Constitution_-class starship pulled up to the barrier and came to a full stop just at its edge. Apollo didn't even need to read the registry on the hull to know what ship it was. "The _Excalibur_." 

Q snorted. "And I bet you're the type of person who makes a running commentary of the obvious when you watch movies." Apollo glared at him. "You know what happened from your point-of-view. What I'm about to show you is what happened from a uniquely different perspective." 

The admiral suddenly found himself speeding toward the vessel, as its crew made a decision and ventured into the barrier. Apollo went through the bulkheads as though he were a ghost or the bulkheads didn't exist. Now he could tell that a couple weeks had "passed", and he was able to see what wasn't visible when he was physically there... light tendrils of blue energy wafting through the corridors. It touched briefly on each crewman it reached, and he could tell insanity start to show itself in whoever it touched. Then he saw himself, walking through the corridors. _God, I looked so young back then_. 

The tendrils touched him, and then looked as though they made a decision. They drifted ahead of him and brushed against the crewmen in the corridor. The men then waited and ambushed him in the corridor. As Apollo saw the interaction between the energy and the crew, pieces of information were illuminated in his mind, as he started to realize what was going on. He watched with morbid curiosity as the doctor sealed him in stasis. Then a macabre dance had begun, as within a couple of weeks, the crew killed themselves off; Apollo was shown each and every incident, until no one aboard was left alive, save for him. 

Then his attention was brought back into Sickbay, as the tendrils of energy became much more visible and cohesive. They penetrated the stasis field and wound their way around the insensate figure. Then the transformations began. Some of the changes were subtle, invisible, and would have gone unnoticed had Apollo not been paying rapt attention to what was going on, and sensed the activity. Other parts were more obvious, such as the sight of his organic and inorganic parts... unraveling was the best term he could come up with for it... and merging into a wholly new substance altogether. Bit by bit, he was watching himself reform, in an almost unusual form of rebirth. 

Then Apollo received an indication that he wasn't viewing the incident in real-time, that time was in fact elapsing at an accelerated rate. He was positive that only a few minutes had passed, but the tendrils had slowly retracted from his younger self, giving him a final caress before withdrawing. No sooner did they do that than the door to sickbay opened, and admitted Doctor McCoy. Apollo was confused at first, as he knew from both personal experience and from reviewing the logs that it was several months before the _Enterprise_ discovered them. 

Apollo turned away from the scene... as he did so, the image faded, and he was once more drifting in space, outside the barrier. "What was the point to that, Q? All you did was show me how I became the person I am now. I had pretty much long ago deduced most of what I had just seen." 

"Ah, but there's something that happened there that you know nothing about, because you don't know the history of this 'galactic barrier' that you call it. Tell me, what does your Federation know about it?" Q looked as though he had this infectious secret on his hands, and it was taking all he had not to reveal it right away. 

Apollo sighed and figured he'd better play the game a little longer. "Not much, actually. We thought at first that it formed a basic circle around the entire galaxy. However, we learned that it pretty much hugs close to the different arms of the spiral, which is why it was once mistaken that there were actually _two_ barriers, one in the center and one along the edge." 

Q chuckled. "And yet you _still_ don't know what it is." 

Apollo glanced askance at Q, eyes slitted. "I take it this has something to do with the history lesson you were trying to teach me." 

Q nodded. "Some time ago, I had come up against a younger, more immature version of Q. Your illustrious Captain James T. Kirk was the first of your kind to confront him. He went by the name of Trelane." 

Apollo nodded... he recognized the name from logs and stories that Kirk had told him. "Go on." 

"Anyway, the two of us had it out, and he sucker punched me; took me a while to snap out of it. But for a time, I had merged with this barrier. In fact, I'm not altogether certain that there isn't still part of me in that barrier. But there definitely was when Kirk's Gary Mitchell came in contact with me. And... another illustrious young Starfleet officer." 

Bits of realization started to coalesce in Apollo's mind. "What are you trying to tell me, Q?" 

"Tell me, Apollo, what would have become of Gary Mitchell had he been allowed to live?" 

Apollo shrugged. "I don't know. I don't suppose we ever will." 

Q shook his head in disgust. "That answer isn't worthy even by human standards. Use your amazing, speculative and analytical mind." 

He looked at Q, and pondered the situation. "Well, Mitchell was growing more and more powerful, at an exponential rate. He fancied himself a god, and I wouldn't be surprised if he became one." 

"No, not a god..." 

The full realization hit Apollo then. "A _Q!_ Mitchell would have become a Q?" 

"Yes, and he was almost there, too. A pity he let it go to his head, and fortunate he was killed when he was. Had Kirk put it off for even another few minutes, he would have never been able to stop him. He was simply too corrupted by the power. He failed the test, though we never really intended to give him one in the first place. Even if he had been able to escape death from Kirk's hands, we would have had to deal with him ourselves." 

"But, that would mean..." As waves of discovery washed over him, Apollo reeled with a sudden lifting of confusion. 

Q grinned as he saw that Apollo had realized the truth. "Yes. If there were anyone to join our ranks, it had to be someone who would not be persuaded by his nature. Nothing worse than a corrupt Q." 

If there had been a wall, Apollo would have staggered back against it. "I... I'm a Q." 

"Well, yes, technically, but you're humanity taints it," Q said drolly. "You can't possibly come near to the omnipotence that we possess." 

"If I recall, the Q aren't nearly as omnipotent as they'd like us to think, either." 

"Heaven's _no_! What fun would it be if we were _completely_ omnipotent?" He grew silent, studying Apollo for a moment. "Now that you know who, and what, you are, you'll have a decision to make. Being a Q, you can't just stick around and play with your little Starfleet friends anymore. You have a choice of either coming into full realization of your powers and joining us in the Continuum... or, well... accidents happen even to the luckiest of us, unfortunately." 

Apollo's head whipped around, glaring at Q, eyes burning bright blue. "Is that a threat?" 

"Oh, ho ho. I'm making no threat. The Continuum cannot tolerate one of their own living beneath themselves. I'm surprised they allowed you to carry on your charade as long as you have." Q paused. "This isn't an easy decision. I'll give you time to think about it, but when I return, you'll have an answer, or nothing at all." Q drew two fingers across his throat and disappeared. 

The doors to the turbolift opened onto the bridge, shocking Apollo back to reality. His expression was not lost on his crew. Scotty turned from the Engineering station and approached his commanding officer. "Admiral? Are ye all right, sir?" 

Apollo looked at Scotty as though he didn't recognize the man. "I'm... fine." He took the few tentative steps needed to allow the lift doors to close. He felt like he was in a fog. "Uh... status report." 

Circe came up to Apollo now. "We've... approached the _Scarlett_. It seems that Captain Belanger captured another freighter. She started questioning their crew, but she also wanted to wait for you." 

Apollo nodded absently and made his way to his seat. The two officers followed him. "Sir, are ye sure yer all right?" Scotty asked again. 

As Apollo looked from Circe to Scotty, he seemed to snap out of his haze. "Yes. Yes I am. Please maintain your posts." He sat there, trying to organize his thoughts, until he noticed the _Scarlett_ and a Cardassian freighter on the screen. "Mr. Gex, place us in a position reversed-parallel to the _Scarlett_. Commander Pa'arvalis, let Captain Belanger know I'll meet her aboard the freighter." He stood and headed back into the turbolift. 


	13. Sentinel of Past and Future: Chapter 13

_CHAPTER THIRTEEN_

Apollo coalesced into existence in the small transporter alcove of the freighter. Captain Belanger was there, smiling, waiting for him. "Welcome aboard, Admiral," she said cheerfully. 

"Greetings, Captain. Find out anything of importance from our prisoners?" 

Belanger lost her smile. "Very little, sir. However, we did find something I thought you might like to see." Then she saw Admiral Racer's face. "Uh, sir, are you all right?" 

Apollo seemed to snap out of a fugue. "Huh? Of course I'm all right, Captain. Why do you ask?" 

"For a moment, you seemed... out of it." 

"I assure you, I'm fine. Now, what was it you wanted to show me?" 

She shrugged and led the admiral back towards the cargo bays, where he noticed two security guards from her ship standing to either side of the door. One of them, upon seeing them approach, keyed the door to open. As they stepped inside, Apollo gasped. 

The cargo bay was stuffed from bulkhead to bulkhead with people of all shapes and sizes, in various stages of injury from being beaten and prodded into the ship by their captors. Apollo instinctively went to his chest to call his ship for medical aid, but stopped himself when he noticed the _Scarlett's_ medical staff already weaving their way among the masses. Belanger noticed his action. "My people are holding their own, but it would be nice if they had some help." 

Apollo nodded his thanks and completed his motion. "Racer to _Highlander_," he said. 

"Highlander _here, sir,_" Circe said. 

"Have Dr. Kellara and medical personnel beam over to my coordinates. Tell her we have wounded people here; she can coordinate with _Scarlett's_ CMO when she gets here." 

"_Understood. _Highlander _out._" 

Belanger looked at Apollo. "Sounds like for the short time you've had them, they've turned into a competent crew." 

Apollo smirked. "You learned all that from just a short message." He waited until she knew he was just teasing her. "Yes, they're turning out just fine. I really haven't put them through their paces." 

"I'm sure if things go well, they'll get over you." Apollo looked at her questioningly. "I mean, they'll get used to you. Get over the little quirks that every starship commander has." 

"Ah, aha," Apollo said slowly. 

One of her security people chose that moment to approach them. "Admiral," he said, nodding, acknowledging his presence. Apollo returned the nod. "Captain," he continued, "just received word. Our prisoners are starting to get a bit belligerent." 

Apollo grunted. "Time to get some answers." He left the cargo bay for the freighter's brig, with Belanger hot on his heels. 

As they entered the brig, he heard two of the captives arguing, and it took a moment to realize they were arguing with each other. He looked once at Belanger before taking a breath. "All right, _knock it off!!!_" His booming voice echoed through the brig. Instantly the commotion stopped as the two in the cell were startled into silence. Even Belanger practically jumped at the unexpected volume of his voice. "Now what the hell is going on here?!" 

One of them spoke, a being with thick black hair and long, ribbed ears. "This is purely an internal matter and none of your concern." 

The other one, a gray-skinned person with a hooded neck – the Cardassian - glared at his cellmate. "It _certainly_ wouldn't be his concern if the Dominion were run by Cardassians instead of being micromanaged by you, you vole!" 

"I said _knock it off!!_" Apollo repeated. "What I want to know is what the hell is going on, and why you have humanoids stacked in the cargo bay like so much meat!" Apollo already knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it from them. 

The Cardassian instead turned to Belanger. "I see we warrant an admiral's attention. What's the matter, you don't have enough authority for this?" It was clear he was trying to provoke dissension, but Belanger merely smirked. 

The act wasn't lost on Apollo, though. "That's it." He approached the doorway and nodded to the guard, who deactivated the forcefield. He came toward the Cardassian with the obvious intent on doing bodily harm. To everyone's surprise, though, he switched tactics in mid-stride. With a speed almost too fast for them to comprehend, Apollo whipped to his left, grabbed the Vorta, and with one hand, slammed him up against the wall of the cell, feet dangling in the air, so hard that even the officers outside the cell felt the vibration. Apollo turned his fierce blue glare on the cowering alien. "I want answers and I want answers _now_, or so help me, I'll shove my foot so far up your ass you'll be able to read my shoe size!" 

The Vorta gulped. Both the Cardassian and Belanger believed he would actually carry out his threat. "They're needed for slave labor for the mines," the Vorta sputtered. "The Jem'Hadar need their ketrecel white or we won't be able to control them!" 

Apollo grinned evilly; the Vorta didn't like it. "Thank you. And now, you're going to tell us where this mine is. Or your friends will be able to go through space following a trail of your frozen desiccated body parts to find us." He finally turned toward Belanger. "And I have a plan on how we can rescue the people in the mines." 

~ * ~ 

The Cardassian seated at his post in the communication center of the mine obviously looked so bored, he wished he could be somewhere else. In fact, he wished he could stow aboard the freighter hailing them now, with a fresh load of slaves for the mines. He seemed marginally concerned that the freighter was late in its arrival. He hailed it. "Approaching freighter," he said in a tired voice, "you're about half an hour late for your arrival. State your reasons." 

"_We're sorry that we wasted so much of your valuable time waiting for us_," came an obviously sarcastic reply, "_there IS a war going on here. We were held up by a Federation starship. Our escort just barely bought us time to escape with our skins intact_." 

He chuckled. "Well, they're lucky they didn't meet up with me. I would have had them running with their tails between their legs." He gave them the authorization code to dock, and approached the transporter pad to accept the freighter captain, who would give him a manifest of how many and what types of slaves they carried, as well as the overall condition they were in. 

He wasn't quite expecting to see Federation force materialize on the pad, led by a man with glowing blue eyes and a grin he did _not _like at all. 

"Tails between our legs, eh?" said their leader. The last thing he saw was a bright yellow beam shot from one of their phasers, before lapsing into unconsciousness. 

"Good shot, Commander," Apollo said. 

"Thank you, sir," Pa'arvalis replied. 

Apollo headed toward the guard's post and called up a schematic for the mine. He whistled. "Good thing we _did_ bring the freighter with us. It's going to take that and the _Highlander_ combined to carry all these people out of here, and that's if we pack both ships bulkhead to bulkhead." 

"We'll do it, sir," Circe said, smiling in encouragement. 

"Damn right we will. Let's split up." It took but a moment to download a copy of the schematic into their tricorders. "I'll lead a team into the west wing. Circe, take a team to the south. Now people, let's make some noise." He smiled as they split off and headed their own ways. 

~ * ~ 

Brekkan awoke to, of all things, the sounds of explosions and phaser fire. "What the hell...?" 

One of the guards looked in the direction of the commotion. He started to head towards the trouble, but no sooner did he round the corner then a yellow beam of energy caught him square in the chest, driving him into the opposite wall where he collapsed. 

A human in a uniform different than what she'd seen around the complex came running up to the cell. "Everybody remain calm," he said, "we're from Starfleet, we're here to rescue you." The officer got some light cheers from the remark. "How far down does your cellblock go?" 

"All the way down the corridor," Brekkan explained. "But what about the other wing?" 

"That's being taken care of, ma'am. Don't you worry." He smiled, and for the first time, relief flooded through her body. 

~ * ~ 

LaBrel's office shook as an explosion could be heard. One of his glinns barged into the office. "Sir, we're under attack by a Federation strike force!" 

The gul looked grim. "Perhaps it's time we left this place and regrouped. Go warn the rest of the men." The glinn nodded and as he hurried out, LaBrel rushed to gather every record he had in the office. 

~ * ~ 

Brekkan helped the Starfleet personnel round up her compatriots and send them toward where a vessel awaited. She was hurried through by a blue-skinned female, who she absently remembered was an Andorian. The woman smiled and told her not to worry, that they'd get her and the rest of them out of there. She returned the smile and headed towards where the freighter was docked. 

Apollo had positioned himself at the airlock where the freighter was docked. He was receiving refugees from either side of him as he herded them through the airlock to freedom. "That's it. Let's move it. You're almost home free. You're quite welcome. Let's keep moving." 

He took a woman's arm to help her through the airlock, but for some reason, his hand wouldn't let go of her. He allowed himself to swing around to look at her... 

...and all time for him stopped as he saw who it was. 

~ * ~ 

She was almost free. The officer at the airlock took her by the arm to help her through, but he didn't let go. She turned to face him... and found herself looking into a pair of intensely glowing blue eyes. 

Something inside her mind opened like a floodgate. Memories once enshrouded in fog snapped into abrupt clarity. Suddenly she remembered everything: who she was, what she was doing there, and where she was before. Once the memories flooded into being, the emotions weren't too far behind. 

"Apollo?" 

"Holy... Samantha??" Apollo suddenly realized what the strange sensations he had been feeling were. Samantha looked overcome with joy. Apollo looked as though he had seen a ghost. 

"Omigod, it's _you_," they both said in unison. A nervous chuckle, and they were locked into an embrace, holding each other tight. Circumstances prevented them from staying that way, though. 

"_Hendricks to Admiral Racer._" 

Brekkan... _Sam_... almost expected Apollo to pull out a communicator and flip it open, but instead, he reached up and tapped the insignia on his chest. It chirped. "Racer here." 

"_Sir, we spotted a Cardassian leaving the Administrative area. I think he's headed for the shuttle bay. We'd pursue, but we're being pinned down._" 

Apollo looked at Sam, who shivered. "That would be Gul LaBrel," she said. "He ran this place." 

He looked into her eyes, and though no words were said, he learned all he needed to know... it was a trait she had, of course, forgotten he could do with her. "Don't worry about him, Hendricks. You just get yourself unpinned. I'll see that our party-pooper doesn't leave too early." 

"_Understood, sir._" 

He turned once more to Sam. "You get yourself to safety. I'm going after this gul." He took off in the direction of the shuttle bay. She decided she couldn't be any safer than with him, so she wasn't far behind him. Besides, she owed this Cardassian for his treatment of her and her friends. 


	14. Sentinel of Past and Future: Chapter 14

_CHAPTER FOURTEEN_

LaBrel took off, laughing that his escape would be so easy. As long as the Federation was pathetic, seeing to the safety of the slaves before all else, they wouldn't pay attention to any escapees. He even noticed other shuttles make their way to freedom... in fact, there was one right behind him. He would regroup with his men, and they would try things _his_ way, without any sniveling Vorta around to stick their loyalty to the Dominion in his face. 

He was admiring the soft glow of the nearby planet blow him. He wished they could have had their mine there. It was a nice planet; one of the first things he did when coming to this system was to visit it. But it had none of the materials needed for processing ketrecel white, and it was more efficient to have everything in the asteroid belt. 

Suddenly, proximity alarms were going off. He frantically searched his board, wondering what could have set them off. Certainly not the shuttle behind him; it was too far away. He was still completing that thought when space wavered in front of him. His eyes bugged out when a massive _Sovereign_-class starship appeared before him. Frantic to avoid a collision, LaBrel slapped at his controls; but he was not a good shuttle pilot. He managed to avoid the large ship with the name _Highlander_ emblazoned across the hull, but in the process, he skimmed off a nearby asteroid, about half the size of the ship. Still, without his shields up, it was still plenty big enough to do damage. LaBrel tried desperately to go through options in his head. 

~ * ~ 

Apollo saw the shower of sparks come from the shuttle ahead of them, and tapped his combadge. "Racer to _Highlander_. Did you fire on them?" 

"_No sir, Admiral,_" came the reply, whose voice Sam distinctly recognized as being Scotty's. "_He struck an asteroid when we showed up. My guess is now he'll be heading fer th' planet._" 

"What the hell? Am I in some alternate universe or something? Is Jim Kirk on that ship, too?" Sam said, obviously confused. 

Apollo merely smirked and told her, "I'll explain later." Then, to his badge, "Scotty, keep an eye on him. If his shuttle looks like it might rip itself apart, yank him out of there. I'm following him down, otherwise." 

"_Aye sir, we'll be keepin' an eye on him. _Highlander _out_." 

Sam could see that Apollo was concentrating hard on not letting the other shuttle out of his sight, so she kept anything she had to say to a low tone. "Alternate universe or not, now that I have my memories back, the last thing I remember before finding myself on Fremma, in terrible pain I might add, was being on the bridge of the _Valiant_ and watching the ship blow up around me. Now, considering that ship is nothing like what I knew we had, I'm going to assume I'm a few years in the future. I don't suppose you'd mind explaining what happened there, too, would you?" 

"All in good time," he said. Then he allowed himself to take his eyes off the screen and look at Sam. "But I will tell you this... I've never been happier to see you in all my life. And that covers a _lot_ of territory." He smiled at her, took her hand and kissed it. She returned the smile. He studied her for a moment; she looked a bit haggard, and she looked slightly malnourished, but otherwise not too worse for wear. 

She saw his look, and an incredible wave of sadness hit her. "They... oh Apollo, they killed Lilta." 

"Lilta?" 

She nodded. "Brekkan's granddaughter." A tear rolled down her cheek. 

The memory of the child Sorel had treated aboard the _Valiant_ came unbidden to his mind. His facial expression seemed to adopt a stony mask, and he returned his fiery gaze toward the viewscreen, where he noticed LaBrel's shuttle just starting to glow from atmospheric entry. He dove straight for the beacon. 

"We'll avenge her, Sam. Don't you worry about it." 

~ * ~ 

LaBrel staggered away from his shuttle. It may never fly again, but at least he was down in one piece, and with the emergency beacon he activated in the shuttle, he could hide until he could be rescued. He hoped that Federation starship couldn't pick up the beacon, but he knew almost before completing that thought that the Federation's technology was sufficient enough where they would no doubt catch it. 

The shuttle that followed him from the asteroid landed just next to his wreck... perhaps he would be rescued after all, though he wondered how they avoided the starship. Perhaps they saw his poor fortune and decided to hide in the asteroids, skirt their way around. Either way, he saw salvation. He ran over to the shuttle as the hatch was opening up. He was about to enter the shuttle and thank the pilot for rescuing him when suddenly he couldn't open his mouth. It had been closed by a fist that knocked him squarely and rather hard on the jaw. He stumbled backward, couldn't keep his balance, and fell on his backside. He started to get back up, and noticed with shock that the fist that slugged him belonged to a Starfleet officer with luminous blue eyes. Prisoner 90210 was behind him in the shuttle. 

"You're in a lot of trouble, LaBrel," the officer said. 

"May I have the privilege to know with whom I am 'in trouble'?" 

"Admiral Apollo A. Racer of the _USS Highlander_. I'm arresting you for charges of slavery, murder, and assault of a Starfleet officer, just to name a couple." 

LaBrel chuckled. "Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but _you_ hit _me_." 

Apollo gestured in the shuttle towards the second occupant. "This is Commander Samantha Racer. She was currently on inactive duty, spending time on a Federation world that _your_ forces raided for slaves." Sam was a little startled at Apollo referring to her by her former rank, but she remained quiet. 

LaBrel backed away from the advancing admiral, and suddenly looked over toward a nearby cliff. "I should warn you, I'm not alone." 

Apollo snorted. "That's fine. I don't care." 

"Ah, but you should, _mon admirale_." 

Apollo whirled at the sound, and saw a Cardassian leaning against the cliff. But he recognized this Cardassian. "Q." 

"I'm here. Time for your decision." 

LaBrel tried to get the jump on Apollo. Seeing him as the only threat to him, the Cardassian was taken by complete surprise when Sam moved between them and slugged LaBrel as hard as she could. There was a loud crack, as his jaw was already weakened by the punishment inflicted by it from Apollo. He slumped to the ground, holding his mouth. Sam was shaking her hand. "Owwww..." she whined, flexing her fingers to make sure she hadn't broken her hand. Without even glancing in their direction, Apollo faced off his own adversary. "Kinda short notice, don't you think, Q? I've been a little busy." 

Sam was puzzled. "Who is this 'Q', Apollo?" 

"Ah. Greetings, Madam Racer," Q said, and made a stately bow in her direction. "I am the being who currently holds your mate's fate in the balance." He turned back to Apollo. "What will it be? Embrace the gift we had given you so long ago, or die, forever wondering what it was you passed up." 

Apollo scowled. "Well gee, Q. I think you already know what I'm going to say, seeing as you're _so_ powerful and think you know so much." 

Q sadly shook his head. "That isn't a choice here. You must choose between what you've been given. And if you make no choice, then one will be made for you." 

LaBrel again tried to take advantage of the fact he was being paid no attention. He had picked himself up off the ground and grabbed a rather large rock. Sam was about to cry out a warning when LaBrel hurled it toward Apollo. However, instead of making the sickening crunch he expected to hear, Apollo's forcefield winked into existence an instant before the rock reached him. The mini-boulder bounced off, and nearly crushed its thrower instead if he hadn't had the thought to move out of the way. 

When Apollo turned toward him, he had an evil grin on his face, a type LaBrel had only seen in his worst nightmares, and hoped he would never see again. When Apollo spoke, his voice echoed. "_So, little man. You want to play with rocks._" 

LaBrel suddenly noticed that while Q was in sunlight, Apollo was in sunlight, the shuttles and everything else around him were in sunlight, the spot he was standing in was the only spot in shadow, and he was certain that wasn't the case a moment ago. He looked up, and saw the source of the shadow. He had just enough time to look at Apollo with utter despair before a ten-ton boulder dropped on him; no splat, nothing showed of the Cardassian, just a resounding boom when the boulder struck the ground. 

"_Apollo_, how _could_ you?!" Sam shrieked. 

"That is what being a Q is, Samantha," Q said, "the ability to do whatever you want, because any other race in the galaxy is insignificant in comparison." 

Apollo heard those words, and realized that he was repulsed by what he did. To take a life in such a casual manner violated every belief he had. He had already made such a grave mistake when he left Starfleet before. Now maybe he could atone. "No Q. I won't... I _can't_... become something like that." With a flippant gesture of his hand, LaBrel appeared with his back against the boulder, very much alive and looking for all the world as though he soiled his pants. Apollo continued. "I may be a Q, but I am also a Starfleet officer, and I will stand for what I believe in." 

Q shook his head sadly. "I'm truly sorry it must come to this, then." 

Apollo went into a defensive crouch and beckoned to Q. "Bring it on, I can take whatever you can throw at me." 

Q merely looked at him sadly. "It's a pity, actually. You were our best hope." 

A glance behind Apollo was all the warning he had before something slammed into Apollo's back, throwing him to the ground. There was an ugly, smoldering black spot between his shoulder blades. He got painfully to his feet and turned... to find Captain Belanger there, with what appeared to look like a lightning bolt in her hand. 

"My God. _Athena??_ You're a _Q??_" 

"Why so surprised, Admiral? Did you think you were the only Q in Starfleet?" 

Q chimed in. "And that's not an ordinary lightning bolt in her hand. It's a Q-weapon, probably the only thing in existence that can kill a Q. And unless you're in the Continuum, only a Q can handle such a weapon." 

"But _WHY!?_" Sam cried out. "He's not doing you any harm by doing what he does. He certainly wasn't posing any problem all these years. Why kill him _now?_" 

"Because it _must_ be done, otherwise chaos would take over the universe." Q nodded to Belanger. She let loose another bolt, but Apollo erected a shield in front of his arm and batted it away. 

"Athena, don't do this! For God's sake, you were doing the same thing I was. Why are _you_ being spared?" Apollo pleaded. 

"There's a difference, Racer. I was assigned to watch you, see what you would do, if you would embrace being Q. Now that you've made your decision clear, I have no choice. Please know that this is nothing personal. You were an exceptional officer." Belanger actually had a sad, pained look on her face. She hurled another bolt. Apollo deflected it, but barely. 

"It's no use," Q said. "With each defense you successfully make, the bolts will only get stronger until they overcome you." 

As if to punctuate it, another bolt flew toward him, it destroyed his "shield" and knocked him flat on his back. Belanger was about to send the killing blow when Apollo raised his hands. "All right all _right_, already. I give up. I change my mind." They allowed Apollo to stand, and he faced Q. "If I have no other choice, then I guess... I'll become a full Q." 

Q instantly brightened. "_That's_ the spirit!!" He nodded to Belanger, who lowered and extinguished her weapons with a visible sigh of relief. "Trust me, you're going to love it in the Continuum. There's so much to do, so many..." 

Apollo held up a hand. "_Just..._ a cotton-pickin' minute. Let me get this straight. I'm a Q, right?" 

"That's right," Q replied. 

"And we can do _anything_ we want." 

"Yes." 

"Omnipotent." 

"Quite nearly, yes." 

"Well then, I want to stay here." 

"Absolutely corr... _what!?_" 

Apollo glared at Q. "That's right. I want to stay here. As a Q, I am using my rights, and I choose to continue in the capacity that I've been serving. I am remaining in Starfleet, in command of the _Highlander_." 

Q started sputtering. "But... but... you can't _do_ that!!" 

"Why not?" 

"Because it's simply not _done_! It's against the rules!" 

"But I thought Q's _had _no rules." 

"Well they don't, but..." 

"So now you're sounding like Trelane." 

Q was shocked to hear that. He stopped, thought about it, and concluded, "you know, you're absolutely right. I _am_ sounding like that fop, aren't I?" 

Belanger came up to Q. "He's got a point, you know. Wasn't it you who chided Quinn? He wanted to die because it was the only thing a Q hadn't done." She glanced at Apollo. "Well, _one_ of the things, anyway. And then wasn't it you who realized that it was the very same attitude _you_ once had? The rebel who went through the Continuum, doing all sorts of outrageous things to try and get some life back into them?" 

Q was completely at a loss. For the first time in his existence, he didn't know quite what to say. Belanger turned to Apollo. "And you know, Racer, you may even be more than a Q." 

"_What?!_" Q, Apollo, and Sam exclaimed, all in unison. 

"Well, I don't think a normal Q would have been able to shrug off those bolts, could they? I mean, they're Q-weapons, so wouldn't they negate any Q-defense?" 

Q had a sudden flash of realization. "Then perhaps he is something else." 

Apollo dared to speak. "Something _more_, perhaps? Maybe what humanity is destined to become?" 

Q pondered that. "And maybe even what Q is destined to become. I'll be right back. Don't go away." With that, Q vanished in a flash of light. 

Apollo turned to Belanger. "I want to thank you for coming to my defense." 

She shrugged. "I meant what I said. You _are_ a good officer, and I would have hated to kill you. But if we're right, I may not have been able to do it even if I wanted to." 

Sam spoke up. "So... where does that leave me?" 

Apollo turned, startled that he actually forgot she was there. He held out a hand, and she went to his arms, holding him close. She looked up at him, then took his face in her hands and kissed him. He blushed. "What is that for?" 

"Ohhh, just something I promised myself I would do," she replied, basking in a smile that she hadn't seen or felt in so long. She glanced over Apollo's shoulder. "And, uh... where does that leave LaBrel?" Sam continued. 

"I'm sorry. I just don't feel that way toward him... he's not my type." She took his head in her hand and turned it to the spot that caught her attention. 

As he was forced to look in that direction, the shuttle's engines exploded into life as they carried it off the ground and up towards orbit. Apollo gave Belanger a knowing glance, and they both smirked. He reached out toward the shuttle, closed his fist, and yanked _hard_. The shuttle, as though attached to an invisible string, jerked back to the ground and slammed down for a crash landing. The hatch popped open – fell off, actually – and LaBrel was dumped unceremoniously to the ground. Apollo looked at LaBrel and snapped his fingers. A tribble appeared where LaBrel had been laying. 

"Let him stew like that for a while," Apollo said. Sam chuckled at the sight. 

At that moment, Q reappeared. "The Continuum has decided that it would not be in their best interests to have you killed. Apparently, there is something to your theory of being an advanced human/Q, though the idea almost disgusts me. They feel that having been a human for so long, you will have developed certain mental blocks to keep you from using your powers to their full potential. Therefore, it was decided that your decision may stand. Though why you would want to coexist with these primates is completely unfathomable to me." 

Belanger stepped toward Apollo to stand with him. "Well then, it may 'disgust' you further to know that I wish to remain with the humans as well." 

"_You_, Athena? But _why_?" Q said, totally exasperated. 

"Because, I admire their spirit. And I enjoy my duties as a starship captain, too." She smiled at Apollo, who returned the favor. "Who knows? Maybe we'll start a trend, and more Q's will want to join Starfleet." 

"They'd have to go through training like everyone else, though," Apollo remarked. "Although it _would_ bode well for us in the war against the Dominion." 

Q raised his hands in defeat. "I give up!" With that, he disappeared again. The three of them grinned broadly, and Sam reached down to pick up the tribble. "Are you going to keep him this way?" 

He glanced back at them. The tribble seemed not to like that idea, and chittered wildly. "He could learn some humility that way. But as fitting as it may seem, he needs to pay for his crimes." 

Athena smiled and plucked the creature from Sam's hands. "I'll take care of LaBrel." She studied Sam a moment, then turned to Apollo. "It seems you have a problem of your own to work out." As he raised an eyebrow, she called her ship and was beamed away. 

"A problem of my own? What did she..." he trailed off as Sam started wandering away. "Sam? What is it?" 

She didn't respond at first... taking a few steps further, she turned and faced him. "Apollo... what happened to me? How am I here?" 

"Sam, can this wait until we're back on the ship?" 

"No!" She took a couple of steps back. "No, you don't understand... 'back' on the ship? I haven't been there. I've..." Sam paled slightly. She stared at nothing for a moment, her eyes glazing over, until she looked at him again. "I was dead, Apollo. Why am I here? If I died, then why am I here?" 

He looked forlornly at her. "I... It would take some time to explain. I would much rather do so aboard the _Highlander_." 

"I don't belong here, Apollo." 

He couldn't believe his ears. "Sam... you can't mean that." 

"I don't belong here. And... I think you should go." 

"Sam..." 

"_Go!_ Just leave me alone!" With a sob she ran off. He took a couple steps in pursuit, but stopped. 

"Sam..." he said, reaching in the direction she headed. 

~ * ~ 

_Personal log, stardate 51869.3:_

_I am reminded of the story of King Midas from Greek mythology. Midas was given an incredible power by the gods... whatever he touched transformed into gold. He was excited at the prospect of easily becoming the richest man on the planet. However, he soon discovered that he couldn't touch the food he ate, for it turned to gold in his hands. And ironically, he lost his most valuable treasure to this power... he touched his daughter, and she became a golden statue. His blessing became a curse. _

In a similar manner, I find my abilities are becoming my curse. I've figured out that my Q abilities had somehow resurrected Sam, though why she turned up on Fremma is unknown at this time. But in doing so, I may have deepened the pain between us, and what I thought a simple solution... that she would return with me and to Starfleet... is turning out to be not so simple. I could have lived with myself if she were still dead... but now that she's alive, if she decides our paths separated with her death... I don't know what I'll do... 

Apollo never went back to the ship. He had sat dejectedly against the boulder in the center of the clearing. To deal with Sam's death was one thing... to deal with her rejection was another. Right now he'd trade all the power he had if he could only hold on to her. 

Sam had run until she ran out of ground. She stood watching waves lap at the shore of a lake. Suddenly a voice behind her said, "Pathetic... so pathetic." 

She turned to see Q standing behind her. "What do you know about it?" she said. 

"Silly question, considering who you're asking." When her scowl at him only deepend in response he continued. "I know more than you think I do. I know that you don't realize the gift he gave you." 

She stared sadly out over the water. "I was better off dead." 

He snorted. "Oh, sure. You could see it that way... your meaningless existence was over. You had no more worries, no more fears, everything was just peachy... meanwhile he was tearing his soul apart mourning over you." 

"Without me, he could have gone with you to your Continuum. He might have been better off." 

"Oh, trust me, he set forth these events long before I came to him... in fact, it started just as you and your shipmates met your untimely fate." 

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why are you telling me all this? What do you get from this?" 

He shrugged innocently. "My motives for this are far beyond your comprehension. Suffice it to say that you have been given a wonderful gift, and throwing it back in his face is hardly what I would consider gratitude. Of course, I've noticed that you humans wouldn't know gratitude if it bit your posteriors." 

"What, you think I have to throw myself at his feet because he brought me back to life??" 

"Well... the thought would have occurred to me." 

She was starting to realize that this being truly revulsed her. She gave him her best glare and stormed past him to return when from where she came. Q watched her go, then looked at the sky. "Whaaat? Every now and then I have to be unpredictable... keep you on your toes. Even if it means..." he shuddered, "performing selfless acts." He grinned impishly as he disappeared in a flash. 

Sam walked around the bend, then ducked quickly back out of sight. Apollo was seated against the rock he dropped, his knees drawn up with his arms draped over them. His head was bowed low, as though deep in thought. But she knew, after the years she spent with him, could tell it was different. As much as she hated to say it, that Q was right. She had been given a second chance... could she do the right thing with it? 

~ * ~ 

He started thinking in circles... despair closed in on Apollo, threatening to shut his mind down. _I guess it's over... I may as well accept it,_ he thought. He slowly got to his feet, figuring he'd better go find Sam. _I'm sure we'll be able to find a place for her. Maybe if she wants, we can take her back to Fremma._ It hurt him deeply to think he'd have to let her go. But if she were happier without him... 

"I'm sorry." 

Apollo looked up. "Huh?" 

Sam was peeking around the bend at him. "I said I'm sorry." She walked out to face him. "I've been doing some thinking... and I realize... you can do so much with the gifts you have. How you've managed to remain true to yourself is amazing." 

He snorted. "You'd be surprised." 

"Let me finish... please." She slowly approached him. "Like I said, you can do so much... and one of the things you did was bring me back. It took me a while, but I know now that you must have gone through a lot in order to do something like this." 

"More than you know," he replied, wondering where she was going with this. 

"What I'm trying to say is... if you're willing to do so much to bring me back... then I suppose I can stop acting like I'm still dead." 

Apollo closed the remaining distance to Sam. He brought his hands up, hesitating a moment before gently cupping her face. She closed her eyes, leaned into his hands, having missed his touch. "Are you saying you want to come back to me?" 

Sam opened her eyes, gazing into the light and warmth held there. She smiled and nodded, then Apollo drew her into an embrace and they held each other tight, neither wanting to let go. 

~ * ~ 

"_Well, Admiral, it's been a real privilege working alongside you_," Belanger said. 

"And you as well, Captain," Apollo replied. Together, the two ships and the Cardassian freighter were able to carry the refugees to Starbase 147, where transport ships would return the people to their respective homes. The _Highlander_ and the _Scarlett_ were assigned to different sections of the war front. "With any luck, we'll meet again." 

Belanger laughed. "_Luck, Admiral? We're Q's. Count on it. I'll see you around. _Scarlett _out_." The transmission ceased, and Belanger's image was replaced with that of her ship, heading off into warp. Apollo tapped some commands into the controls in his chair. 

_Ship's log, Stardate 51870.3:_

_Having found and shut down a major source of ketrecel white production, the _Highlander_ and the _Scarlett_ have split off to continue their respective searches for information and measures to take that will further hinder the Dominion's capacity to wage war. Hopefully, someday, we will receive word that they will finally get through their thick heads that it's not worth taking the Alpha Quadrant, and they'll leave us alone. Of course, such a move will leave the Cardassians completely open to repatriation from the other races of this Quadrant._

He looked up as Sam entered, formally attired in a Starfleet uniform. They shared a smile as she walked over to Ops. For the past two weeks, Scotty had been giving Sam a crash course in 24th century starship operations; Ops was the closest bridge post to her past position as science officer, so he made her familiar with that. As time went on, she would gradually become more proficient in her duties, as both Scotty and Apollo had. Circe stood and while Sam relieved her, she took her proper place over by Tactical. He didn't miss the look Circe gave Sam, or the look she gave him. Shortly after they returned to the ship, he had a talk with Circe about the situation. She had told him she completely understood, and she wouldn't interfere, but she would _still_ set up regular training sessions with him and other members of the crew. Apollo returned to his log.

_Starfleet has given me word that Commander Racer will have her status of "Lost in the Line of Duty" changed on her record to "Missing – Presumed Dead," and that status will then be upgraded to reflect her as having been reactivated for duty. She will retain the rank of Commander... temporarily... until her record is fully reviewed and it is shown that a promotion is well deserved. She will be on my crew as Ops officer, thereby completing my bridge crew roster. She will also be my first officer, if she'll accept. Other ships would separate the two posts, but I see no need to waste the manpower._

_The _Highlander_ is now en route to Sector 401. It is understood that the Romulans have been steadily pressing their way through Dominion fronts there. It is our duty to both give them whatever help they need... and to ensure that they don't take too _much_ territory, encroaching on Federation space_. 

He saved his log and transmitted it to Starfleet. Taking a moment to slowly look around the bridge, he transferred the stardate from his ship's log to his personal log and opened a new entry.

_Perhaps Belanger was right. As far as being a Q is concerned, there is no luck. If that were the case, then I would chalk it up to an unconscious manipulation of my powers. I have a fine ship, and I've been reunited with two people I have always held dear to me. Scotty alone was a godsend to me, but Sam..._

_When she died, the bond was severed... but there was never any closure. The sensations I had been feeling over the past couple of weeks were from the bond gradually and subtly resituating itself. It's also why Sam kept having the visions of me that she told me about. With time and patience, I'm sure we can work the bond back to its original strength. I see her looking at me, and the love in her eyes is as fresh and as alive as that day so long ago. She's slowly coming around to the 24th century, and I, for one, am glad to have her here. Her presence makes dealing with this time more... fulfilling._

As though to provide evidence of his discovery, Sam turned her head to look at him, knowing she was on his mind. She smiled, and he could almost feel the bond strengthen that much more. He deactivated his log and stared out over steepled fingers at the viewscreen. Though it didn't have to be on for them to travel, like it did with past starships he served aboard, he always felt it added color and scenery to the bridge, even if currently all there was to see were the effects of warp travel. He sat back, listened to the sounds of bridge activity, and smiled.


End file.
